Old Yellow Bricks
by Basscop69
Summary: AU: 'At 5.45, he boarded a train leaving Manhattan and refused to look back.' I promise, this is a Chair fic.
1. Chapter 1

The year was 1963. He'd been eighteen years old, freshly out of high school with the world at his feet. Eighteen years of his father's weary frown, of his mother's worrying and his family's expectations, of teachers trying to tell him what to do and who to be, of exams and classes and stifling events where he was bored out of his mind. He'd been bored out of his mind for eighteen years. High school was finally over, he was officially an adult and capable of making his own decisions, and the world should have been at his feet.

And they were telling him it wasn't.

They were telling him he'd go to Yale, to more classes and more exams and more professors, that he'd graduate to a job in a plush office in his father's company, marry his perfect girlfriend and raise two perfect children and go to dinners and galas every night and be on his best behaviour forever.

Eighteen years of pretending to be a gentleman, a perfect son, a model student, a devoted boyfriend, whenever it was required – and for what? To be told that this was his fucking life, for the rest of time? He loved his parents – as much as one could love parents, frustrating as they were – and he loved his girlfriend, adoring and uptight and spoiled and manipulative – but he was sick to death of all of it. He wanted to _live, _for God's sake. Not the same bars and the same parties and the same scotch that his parents turned a blind eye to; he wanted to get out. He wanted to see things. He wanted to do whatever the fuck he wanted, when he wanted. Just once. If he went to Yale then he'd never get out. If he went to Yale then he was stuck on the same course, forever. Then he'd never have the chance again.

So he'd smiled for his parents as he'd picked up his graduation certificate, smiled as he'd shaken the hand of the headmaster who'd told him what a brilliant future he had ahead of him. His girlfriend had wrapped her arms around his neck, delighted for him and just as excited about her own graduation next year. He'd gone out that night, said goodbye to his parents and picked his girlfriend up in his town car, headed out to a high-class bar with his friends to celebrate their futures.

He'd thrown his cash around, bought round upon round of drinks – champagne and whisky and martinis for his girlfriend, surprised when she'd knocked them back because she never normally liked to drink. But they were all celebrating. The conversation had buzzed with excitement – for the future, for their new selves – and he'd wanted to laugh at them, because how the hell did they think anything was ever going to change as long as they stayed here? The freedom got smaller and the responsibility got bigger, till they were all miserable versions of their parents who indulged in the occasional seedy affair or prescription drug problem for a thrill – because that was the only excitement they'd ever get in their lives again. One of his closest friends had thrown him a smirk, dark eyes – the guy was a year younger than him and had real potential, but he'd never get out either. It was all scotch and women now, but come a few years, the guy would have a business degree and be sitting in his father's office too, with no idea how he'd got there.

The guy had smirked at him and, at the end of the night, helped him pick his girlfriend up from the bar where her own blonde best friend had dragged her. The martinis had gone to her head; precisely why she never drank. He'd said his goodbyes, taken his girlfriend from his friend, and headed back into the town car to take her home. Like a good boyfriend. It wasn't till she was vomiting out of the car while he held her hair – and she was terrified that somebody would see – that she'd started crying. She'd wanted tonight to be the night. She'd even booked a suite to surprise him. That was why she'd got through so many martinis, of course. He'd felt bad then – hell, he'd been the one, throughout their whole relationship, always trying to push her further, to let him put his hand up her skirt and under her shirt – and now here she was, finally telling him she was ready. He'd known what a shit he was as he'd kissed the top of her head and wiped away her tears and told her they'd have other nights. She probably wouldn't remember in the morning anyway. He'd made sure she got up to her penthouse, and then he'd gone back to his own home while his parents were sleeping, packed a bag, and gone straight to Grand Central Station. Dawn had just been starting to streak the sky.

And at 5.45, Carter Baizen had boarded a train leaving Manhattan and refused to look back. At 5.45, Carter Baizen was a free man.

* * *

**A/N – Now, I promise I will NOT neglect 'In This City' as a result of this fic. But I've had this in my head for a while, and I figured with 'Homecoming' finally almost complete...? This was partially inspired by watching 'Mad Men' and 'Catch Me If You Can' – the period, I mean, not the plot. And don't worry, it won't be just Carter. Though I have to admit that my love for his character grows the more I re-watch those few Gossip Girl episodes that he's in. Seriously, show – why did you not keep him around? The story will become clearer next chapter - points if you can guess who his girlfriend is? Although it's not exactly subtle heh. Reviews would be hugely appreciated to let me know if there's any interest :) **


	2. Chapter 2

1966

Blair was curled perfectly on her chair, legs folded underneath her and a smirk on her face as she scanned the photos.

"You have to admit," Chuck drawled from her side. "This is good. Even for me." He was leaning over her to admire the black and white prints too. She could feel his breath on her neck, temporarily distracting her from the images of Vanessa Abrams looking far too close to her married boss. She claimed the relationship was purely professional, of course...but the pictures were all the proof they needed. Girls didn't get lunch and lean in that close to men for their 'profession'. Well, unless that _was_ their profession. Blair failed to see anything remotely attractive about Rufus Humphrey_ – _but then, Vanessa was hardly appetizing herself.

"Well," she said, satisfied. "Maybe she'll learn she's not the only one who can point a camera."

Vanessa had come snooping around with her little writer friend Dan – her boss's son, incidentally – wielding a giant black contraption that she insisted on poking in Blair's face for 'art'. They wanted to do an expose, or something equally ridiculous, on the Upper East Side. The scandalous lives of Manhattan's elite.

And her and her nosy little camera had managed to capture a picture of Chuck and Blair mid-scheme, whispering in a dark corner. Considering most of the things they did together, it was hardly the worst moment she could have caught on film – but enough was enough. The troll needed to be brought down. And with the help of his PI, Chuck had been more than happy to assist.

"So what's the plan?" he smirked. He'd moved away from her desk now to prowl around her room; she turned to look at him. "Blackmail or social humiliation?"

Blair grinned back. "I'm thinking...both." His mouth curved wickedly as she stood up, drawing close. "It'll be one for the ages." The glee in her voice was evident, and he tilted his head in agreement. He drank her in hungrily – cream and red dress with her dark curls loose and that delightful gleam in her eye. Scheming Blair turned him on like nothing else. Actually, pretty much anything Blair did turned him on. He was close enough to smell her shampoo now.

"So," he murmured as he fingered her coverlet, gaze moving over her. "This is your bed, huh?"

Like he hadn't been in it too many times to count already.

She rolled her eyes at him and snatched the material out of his hand. "My mother's downstairs, Bass." But he could feel the slight catch in her breathing at his proximity – because scheming turned _her_ on, too. He smirked down at her. And then he caught her waist without warning, pulling her flush against him. She smelt of honey and sweet perfume as her hands crept over his shoulders, her eyes dark with unmistakeable lust. He angled his head down to capture her mouth with his.

"Well," he murmured into her lips, "You'd better be quiet, then..."

* * *

The restaurant was situated in a back alley of Phuket, dim and dilapidated with its customers hunched over rickety tables nursing cheap rice wine. The conversation was muted, mainly Thai - though at the bar there was one with English thrown in, where the low drawl of an American accent was unmistakeable.

"So you return to New York for your father, Mr. Baizen?"

The young man tilted in his bar stool was lazily handsome, cool blue eyes and messy brown hair, unshaven and sharp cheek-boned in a loose white shirt and faded slacks. "Chai," he muttered now, taking another drink from his glass. The wine was foul stuff, essentially, but he'd developed a taste for it. "His funeral." He hadn't even been aware that the old man was sick – but it wasn't like he'd been contactable for the past three years. He'd only found out after catching a glimpse of his father's face in a newspaper from an American tourist. Edward Baizen had lost his battle with prostate cancer and died at the age of fifty-nine.

"You are close to him?"

"Were," Carter corrected as he drained the rest of his drink. "And no." No, he'd never been _close _to Edward. They'd used to talk about business and trade and Carter's career choices – and the races, sometimes, though Carter's mother had always wrinkled her nose at the mention of gambling. His father had taught him how to knot his tie, how to shave. But Carter had taught himself how to drink scotch and smoke a cigar. His memory of the man was distant now, no more than a lined face behind a desk and a voice of tired authority. Still, the idea of him not being in New York, not at home in the penthouse – the idea of never seeing him again – had unsettled him a little. He ordered another glass of wine with one motion of his hand.

"You no miss your family?" his companion asked. Akkarat had become Carter's drinking and gambling buddy throughout his stay in Thailand – he liked the guy because he didn't ask questions. Or at least, he hadn't.

"Not really," Carter answered brusquely.

"Life in New York was hard?"

"No," Baizen sighed. "Just boring."

Akkarat gave him a little nudge. "You had a wife, Mr. Baizen?"

Carter paused for a moment, sipping from his glass. He'd as good as had a wife. If he'd stayed, they'd be married by now. Or, at the very least, engaged. "A girlfriend."

Akkarat had been joking about the wife; he raised an eyebrow. He'd never known Carter to sleep with anyone more than once. He could hardly believe that the womanizer at his side had ever been committed enough to have a relationship. "You love her?" he teased.

Carter ignored him. He reached the end of his glass, letting the last of the liquid slide down his throat as he thought of her. Blair Waldorf. He'd kept her firmly out of his mind ever since he'd left, because Carter Baizen did not do guilt. Because every time he thought about her, he remembered arms wrapped around his neck and love shining in her eyes, remembered that goddamn suite she'd booked and her tearstained face as he lied to her. He remembered her prim headbands and her skirts and blouses, wide brown eyes and pearl earrings, the way she smelled of vanilla in the mornings and her sweet perfume, her head tucked under his arm as he draped his jacket around her, the damn pin she'd sewed into his shirt, her pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving, all the stupid plays she'd dragged him to and her hand in his. He wondered what she was doing now. Blair Waldorf, who had been pure and perfect and proper and all his – no doubt her mother had paired her off with another heir, a perfect Ivy league graduate that took her to his lacrosse games and held her hand at events and would keep her chastity intact until after marriage.

Carter grimaced as the after sting of the rice wine burned his insides.

* * *

Blair squirmed on her back, silk sheets bunching up underneath her, as Chuck's tongue buried in between her legs. She had to turn her face to muffle her moan of pleasure into the pillow; she felt him smirk as his hands slid up her thighs, holding her in place. He whispered her name into her and her own hands fisted on the comforter.

"Chuck-"

Her back arched up off the bed as she came, eyes rolling to the back of her head, fighting not to scream his name. And then his body was covering hers, his mouth kissing a trail up her abdomen and to her neck, pressed against her collar bone while her fingers dug into his hair. He looked down at her, devilish. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing still uneven. Her eyes glowed. She sought his lips greedily, wanting his mouth on hers as her arms curled tight around his neck. His weight was hot and heavy and familiar on top of her, his legs framing her hips, her body curved up into him.

He smirked and kissed her again.

* * *

Carter and Akkarat had won the money for Carter's airfare in a game, and Carter had stolen a boat and then hitchhiked his way into Bangkok city for the airport. And now he was several thousand feet in the air, watching Asia disappear and America creep closer and closer.

He'd ordered a scotch, neat, from the air stewardess – he might as well start getting back into old habits. It had been a while since he'd had a good scotch. The stewardess was blonde and blue-eyed and American; Carter wondered, as he contemplated her endless stretch of legs, if he should be delving back into all things American. But he wasn't in the mood.

His fingers drummed against the arm rest. He fucking hated aeroplanes. Most of the other passengers in the tiny cabin were military based, clearly on leave from Cambodia or Laos. There was some kind of diplomat and his family sat in the seat ahead, two kids whining over a toy while their mother tried to shush them. Carter wondered, briefly, if his own mother would even talk to him when he got back. For all she knew, he was as good as dead. All those carefully-laid plans that he'd ruined in one train ride. No one to inherit the company. No one to secure the Waldorf-Baizen business union. The embarrassment of dinner parties, of having to tell people she had no idea where her son was. Oh, he bet she'd loved that.

He wondered how she was even coping without his father. Victoria Baizen had always relied on Edward to do everything for her. It would, he reflected, have been so much easier to just stay in Asia. He could have gone to Europe, Mexico, India – even the Middle East. Christ. Why had he even boarded this plane?

Because he'd run out of money, of course. Because he was wanted in several areas of Chang Mai and Singapore for gambling debts. Among other things. Going home was the wisest move – and he had to. He hadn't even been there for his father's funeral. Which was low, even for him.

People didn't leave the Upper East Side. People with trust funds and perfectly executed engagements didn't forsake all of it to _travel. _To gamble and con and drink and sleep their way across continents. He thought of the dumb little boys he'd used to call friends, always following him around, always so desperate to _rebel, _to be _cool. Carter, show me how to hold my liquor. Carter, show me how to get this girl into bed. _(Ironic, considering he'd never even got his own girlfriend into bed, after four years of being practically engaged). Fuck them, he thought wearily as he drained his last finger of scotch. Fuck them all. And Blair Waldorf – damnit, he couldn't think of Blair.

The intercom crackled to life above his head. "All passengers, please return to your seats. We will shortly be landing in JFK airport."

Carter spared a glance out the window, where the Manhattan skyline was gradually coming into focus as the plane circled closer and closer. Well, he figured grimly, no turning back now. The prodigal son had returned.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you so much for all your wonderful feedback! Please don't kill me...I swear, I had this written already, so it's not getting in the way of 'In This City' or 'Homecoming'! I just wanted to get this up before I focus on updating the other two :) **


	3. Chapter 3

Chuck was not entirely sure when he realised Blair Waldorf was a hundred times more delicious than the finest scotch he'd ever had, and a hundred times more addictive than any illegal substance he'd ever tried.

Probably it was the very first moment her lips touched his. The very first moment he tasted her. All he knew was that ever since that night, that moment, the only thing he ever wanted to taste again was her. She was the only thing he craved, night and day; her lips and the familiar feel of her waist, the way she moaned his name, her brown eyes and her dark curls through his fingers. Her laugh. The curve of her mouth as she smirked. He'd committed every inch of her body to memory, every freckle and the sweep of her eyelashes – and it still wasn't enough. Blair Waldorf, who he'd spent most of his life plotting and bickering and bantering with. She was the only girl he'd ever liked. The only girl who knew him. Really knew him. She made him laugh, he admired and respected and understood her without even having to try – and she was the only girl who drove him crazy.

Two years ago, their own graduation night, she'd kissed him on a rooftop while a party raged inside. She'd tasted of champagne, drunk with success and fear and a strange, burning want. He'd watched her give her valedictorian speech just that day, he'd shared a smirk with her as all the parents applauded, at the knowledge that Nelly Yuki – the original speech-giver – was in bed with a mysterious dose of food-poisoning. They'd toasted each other in his limousine and she'd pulled his scarf off to drape around her own slender shoulders. He'd watched her dance with Serena at Nate's party, raised his glass to her and appreciated the way her deep amber dress clung to her body. Just like he appreciated everything she wore. Headbands and stockings and heels, tight knee-length skirts and and shift dresses.

And afterwards he'd joined her on the roof, away from the noise of the party, the bottle he'd lifted from the bar slung between his fingers. Their shoulders had brushed, their hands barely touching as they'd watched the city lights. On top of all of it. There had been fireworks somewhere, a muffled bang and the cool night air. But she'd only shivered when his fingers accidentally ran over her knuckles. She'd tilted her head to look at him; he'd moved his head too, and then they were suddenly seconds apart. He could feel her hot, sweet breath, hear the flutter of her heart. See her throat move as she swallowed. His mouth had been dry too.

Then she'd been falling into him and her lips had been on his, her tongue in his mouth and his fingers tangled in her hair, her elegant chignon pulled loose, the nape of her neck hot in his hold – and there had been no going back from that point.

His red jacket had been on the floor and his shirt buttons undone, her fingers reaching for his pants as the zipper of her dress slid so easily down. Just a white teddy underneath, the soft silkiness of her warm skin and her hips in his hands. He'd taken her virginity and something had changed, irrevocably, in him – something he was never going to get back. Something he wasn't even sure he wanted back. She'd tried too late to deny it, tried to take it back when they both knew she never could. But he liked chasing her and she liked being chased, being wanted – most of all, though, they liked _this. _The hollow of her neck and the curve of his throat, two hearts pressed against each other, skin on skin and panting into each other's mouths.

She grinned up at him now, still breathless, and pulled away to straighten her blue and white polka dot dress. He zipped it up for her, touch lingering on her spine as he moved her dark tresses away and kissed that sweet spot at her hairline. Two years later – sneaking around, orgasms muffled into hands and furious kisses, whispered (moaned) encounters at events and excuse upon excuse to friends and commitments, the back of his town car and too many rooftops to count, deserted corridors, his bedroom and her bedroom, dressing rooms, coatrooms, bathrooms, kitchens – and still he couldn't get enough of her taste. Her scent. Her feel. Still as her fingers reached up to adjust his navy tie, as her hands trailed his shirt and her lips sought his jaw, just for a moment -

"Down, Bass," she murmured. "Eleanor will kill me if I'm late for this lunch."

"Of course," Chuck answered as his hands slid around her waist – like he'd let her get away that easily - "You can't be late for Princess Theodore."

"Prince Theodore," she slipped back. "And actually, he's not coming." She pulled a face for a moment. "My mother has someone else lined up. Someone even _better." S_omeone even duller.

"Well," Chuck purred as he lowered his head to place a kiss on her collar bone, "Maybe we can find a way to make your day less boring later..."

And even though her eyes had fluttered shut at the heat of his mouth, she placed a small hand on his chest and attempted to push him away. "While you're at your Lost Weekend, you mean?"

He smirked down at her. "I told you, the weekend's for Nate." He'd detected the tinge of jealousy in her voice – not that she'd ever admit it. Getting under each other's skin was a permanent competition between them. One of their favourite games.

"I'm sure," she scoffed – but her eyes had narrowed at the implied victory she'd given him. "Well," she switched tacks, "Hopefully whoever Eleanor's found has never even heard of a Lost Weekend. Maybe I _will_ have a good time."

"Whoever Eleanor's found," Chuck rejoined, "Probably hasn't heard of a good time either."

Jealousy. There it was, in the tightening of his tone. He was the jealous one. She smirked. And then they were kissing again, her hands lost in his hair and his fingers digging into the small of her back.

* * *

Carter had opted for a hotel, rather than heading straight to the Baizen penthouse. He wasn't in too much danger of anyone recognising him straight away – Carter Baizen had always been slick and polished in immaculate suits, oiled hair and not a trace of stubble.

The city hadn't changed. Because of all the places he'd been to, there was nowhere quite like Manhattan. He grimaced at the cliché. Grimaced and ordered himself a whisky from the hotel bar. He didn't have the money to stay in a place like The Palace, of course. But with any luck, he would do soon.

* * *

"Blair, this is Asher Hornby."

Blair smiled sweetly at the well-presented young man, with his dark perfectly parted hair and his row of perfect white teeth. She'd put her money on Dartmouth. Pre-law.

"A pleasure to meet you."

Lacrosse, she decided. His shoulders weren't broad enough for football. A maximum income of $25,000 a year. Plus the perks of being a Hornby. Blair Hornby. Vile. The name didn't work at all. Still – Eleanor had done well enough.

"Blair," her mother smiled at her over her asparagus. "Did you hear that Poppy Lifton got engaged yesterday?" Eleanor's eyebrows said it all. Poppy Lifton, _socialite_, had managed to snare a man before a Waldorf. Yet another engagement to celebrate, yet another future settled.

Eleanor's fixation on the topic was all Cyrus' fault. The fact that most girls on the Upper East Side had at least some idea who they were going to marry by twenty wouldn't have bothered Eleanor usually. She'd never taken an active interest in her daughter's love life. But Cyrus and all his step-fatherly concern had voiced the idea that maybe Blair still wasn't entirely over...well, that incident. The little failure from three years ago that they didn't talk about. A certain derailment of a plan, a broken heart – perhaps a heart that still wasn't mended.

And Eleanor certainly wasn't having that. Her daughter would damn well get over it. Waldorfs did not mope. Waldorfs did not get abandoned. Waldorfs did not let scandal dictate their lives – they rose above it, and they succeeded. Her daughter would have the best match, the best husband, and the best married life – she'd be the most happy and the most in love, because Waldorfs did not get derailed. Waldorf did not have broken hearts. (And Manhattan would see that the Baizens had never even been worthy of the Waldorfs' time.)

Asher was telling her all about his summer plans now – Hamptons and a few weeks on the family yacht. She pictured herself at his side, pictured his sprawling beach house and warm evenings making polite conversation on the terrace. She'd gone to the Hamptons herself last year. She and Chuck had fucked on the beach, in the shelter of night, and she'd told him never again because of the sand in her clothes. They'd done it again moments later. She remembered the taste of salt on his lips, his dark hair drenched from the ocean spray. She remembered his grin in the moonlight, the dark intensity of his eyes. She shifted in her seat, now, and recrossed her legs.

The summer before that, freshly graduated, they'd stayed in the city and spent the sultry days exploring each other's bodies, new and familiar and too strange for words.

And the summer before that -

No, she didn't even remember the summer before that. Eleanor was very clear about that.

She smiled at Asher again. "That sounds wonderful."

_Whoever Eleanor's found probably hasn't heard of a good time either. _She could already see Chuck's smirk at the knowledge that he'd been right.

* * *

"The only girls you'll touch," Chuck drawled, "Will be the ones I provide for you." He watched the guys in his suite eye the scantily clad women eagerly. Well, at least someone would be enjoying them. Chuck glanced at his best friend. But Nate was a million miles away – he wasn't even looking at the girls. Chuck repressed a sigh of irritation. "Let the Lost Weekend commence."

And while they were all reaching for the nearest drink and the nearest girl, he cornered Nate.

"Archibald. Are you with me or not?"

Nate blinked as though only just realising where he was. Chuck arched an eyebrow at him, pointed.

"I'm sorry, man," Nate sighed. "I guess I'm not really in the mood to party."

"You're not in the mood for beautiful girls?" Chuck enquired. "Is there something you're trying to tell me?"

Nate rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "No. I just..."

"Nathaniel," Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose. "You've been brooding for weeks now. And what exactly has it achieved? You need to let loose. Have a good time."

"Yeah," Nate said vaguely, unconvinced. He exhaled. "Yeah. I know."

Chuck pressed a glass of alcohol into his hand. "You can start by drinking up." Nate raised the tumbler to his lips, obedient, but his mind was clearly already drifting off. And that perplexed, unhappy frown still hovered on his handsome features.

Chuck managed not to roll his eyes in exasperation. It looked like this weekend was going to be a long one.

* * *

"Oh, lacrosse is great," Asher was telling them. "I think it's so important to be part of a team."

"Mm," Blair agreed interestedly, pushing the salmon around on her plate.

"You should come watch me play one day," he smiled at her.

"I'd love to," she lied. She let the conversation of the other dinner guests buzz around her ears, responding to Asher when appropriate as she cut her fish smaller and smaller and planned her next hairdresser's appointment.

She'd smirkingly mused to Chuck that morning that she was considering getting a chic bob, Hepburn or Twiggy style, and had been pleased to see the brief look of horror that had flashed across his face at the imagined loss of her curls. He loved burying his hands in her hair, the feel of it through his fingers and the sight of it spread on his pillow. She'd been calling his bluff. "You don't think it would suit me?" she'd asked, innocent. Just a hint of danger lining her tone. He'd composed himself enough to purr that it would give him easier access to the nape of her neck, fingers reaching for that exact spot. Then he'd suggested he grow his own hair out so that they could role play Twiggy and photographer. She'd dropped the charade with a furious scowl, because the idea of Chuck and poor grooming was unforgivable.

"...Next Saturday, what do you think?"

She realised too late that Asher was looking at her expectantly. She beamed and told him that next Saturday sounded perfect. She hoped she hadn't just signed herself up for a damn lacrosse game.

* * *

Carter paused long enough to spare a brief glance in the gilded mirror, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. He could hear the voices on the other side of the door. Time to get it over with.

* * *

Blair was agreeing with Asher about president Johnson's foreign policy (he clearly had no idea what he was talking about) when her neck prickled. She picked it up, instant. The lull in conversation. Slowly, she turned her own head.

Someone had just walked into the dining room. Someone who now stood in the doorway, framed by the light from outside. Everyone was staring now. A pair of cool blue eyes landed straight on Blair. Above all the other heads, across the long polished table. One gaze on her and her alone. The whole room seemed suddenly very silent. And Blair had frozen.

It was Eleanor's voice that cut through it all, Eleanor's voice that brought her back.

With that one name.

"Serena?"

* * *

Two girls were kissing each other on the chaise long in front of Chuck. One was too blonde, and the other too dark. He was cursing the fact that he hadn't planned a rendezvous with a certain brunette for tonight. Why the hell had he decided to go a whole weekend without seeing her? His suite was in disarray, ties loosened and glasses empty, girls gyrating and guys drinking in every corner. His gaze slid to Nate. Nate, who remained oblivious to the girls making out right in front him of him. Too busy staring miserably into his tumbler.

He didn't know what he wanted any more. He wasn't sure his place at Columbia, secured by his grandfather, was really where he should have been. His relationship with the van der Bilts was strained enough thanks to the whole Tripp mess – and he wasn't sure he wanted that position in the senator's office at the end of it all. He was feeling trapped, confused and at a loss. Like he'd been muddling through for twenty years and he was only just realising.

But Chuck knew damn well what Nate's real problem was.

A year to the day since a certain blonde bombshell had disappeared without a trace. A year of Nate trying and failing to pretend that he wasn't shattered without her, to pretend that he could cope without her wild smile and careless laugh – without the only girl that had ever understood him. Without the only girl that he understood.

All things considered, Nate should have hated Serena. Should have been furious with her. But he was like an abandoned puppy that still didn't understand how his playmate could have left him. How she hadn't taken him with her.

So he drank the scotch that Chuck gave him and went to class and played soccer, let his grandfather pat him on the back and his mother hopefully nudge socialite after socialite in his direction. He saw it all in a confused daze, an empty loss inside him and a hopeless, hurt yearning that he couldn't do anything about. He was tired, he thought. He was tired all the time. The light had gone. And all he'd been left with was the realisation that maybe he couldn't take all the pressure and the expectation by himself. That suddenly, without someone to laugh it off with, without someone to twirl on tabletops and toss her golden hair and punch his shoulder, it was all so much less bearable.

Chuck told him to smoke up and drink up and have sex. But Nate didn't have pent-up frustration to release. He didn't have anger to burn away or a desire to see how far he could push. He was just tired.

He wanted to be happy. That was all. And he wasn't sure he knew how any more.

Chuck eventually gave up trying to engage his best friend's interest in the party. If girls and alcohol wouldn't do the trick, then maybe what Chuck had planned next would. Sport always got Nate interested. His own gaze drifted back to the girls that were still giggling and making out on his sofa.

If he slipped away to call Blair now, he might be able to suggest sneaking her in that night. The other guys would be too drunk and otherwise occupied to notice. Except Blair would refuse to take a single step into his den of debauchery. She'd said as much that morning. Well, she'd said exactly that. _I hope you're kidding, Bass. _Maybe he could sneak _out - _

The change in the room's atmosphere was so slight it was barely there. No more than a ripple through the haze of spirits and smoke and guys having a good time. But Chuck caught it. A prickle on the back of his neck. Something that made his head turn, automatic, his eyes narrow. Something had changed. What? Someone had entered his suite.

Someone uninvited.

He tilted his head to look across the room, still sprawled in his chair. A figure at the door. A guy that would have stood out anyway, because he wasn't dressed anything like anyone else in the room. Even without that swagger and that cool, gleaming gaze. But it couldn't be. Impossible.

Chuck stared. Because Carter Baizen could not have just sauntered into his suite.

Carter Baizen could not be_ back_.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews! The story will, of course, be filled in as we progress...and there should be a 'Homecoming' update tomorrow, for any of you reading that one :) **


	4. Chapter 4

Carter Baizen was back.

Chuck's brain scrambled to make sense of what he was seeing, to work out what to do. Back. The bastard was back. Images raced through his mind, Carter's oiled hair and lazy smirk - just like the one he sported now - Carter lifting his glass of scotch with one idle arm around Blair, Carter as Chuck had last seen him, leading Blair into his car -

Back. What the hell was he doing _back? _

Nate, meanwhile, had only just noticed him. Something had finally broken through the haze. Chuck was hardly aware of the crease in his best friend's brow as he struggled to place the guy.

"Hey." The blond's voice sounded like it was coming from a hundred miles away. "Isn't that Carter Baizen?"

Carter Baizen. Yes, it was fucking Carter Baizen. _Here. _

Nate was sizing him up now, just like Chuck had done. Just like everyone in the room was doing. Gone was the hundred dollar suit and sleek hair, but that cool gaze was exactly the same. It landed briefly on Chuck.

"He looks intense."

It took Chuck a moment to register, appalled, the awe in Nate's voice. What was _wrong _with him? Fucking _awe? _"He looks like he hasn't washed in months," Chuck bit back. He'd snapped out of it now, regained his senses. He had to plot his next move. Wait and see what Carter did. He watched coldly, not bothering to conceal a faint sneer, as the guy sauntered over. He looked like he owned Chuck's suite. He always had.

Nate was already moving to greet him, a sudden interest in his features that none of Chuck's efforts had been able to produce all weekend. All year, in fact.

"Archibald." Carter was all wolfish grin as he shook the blond's hand, Nate's smile instant. Chuck had the inexplicable urge to knock it off his face. Carter barely bothered to greet _him_, simply arching an eyebrow in his direction. The slight was deliberate. Chuck's Lost Weekend. His suite. His rules. He tuned out of Nate's eager questions and Carter's wild tales of his adventures abroad - he could care less - and tried to work out what the motherfucker was doing here.

Clearly, the creep was up to something. Money. It had to be. No doubt Peru wasn't the greatest place to access daddy's trust fund. Chuck remembered all too well the Carter that had led all those stupid boys - the same boys that were gathered in his suite now - with more money than sense into scheme after scheme that had benefited Carter and Carter alone. And Chuck, once he got in on it.

But not Nate.

Nate who was now swallowing stories that sounded like they'd been lifted directly out of a fucking Commie's handbook with sheer admiration, who was looking at the guy that more closely resembled a scarecrow like he was some kind of _god. _Nate, who was lapping it up.

Chuck didn't get it.

Had Nate _forgotten_ what Carter had done? Was his best friend really that much of a goldfish? Because Chuck damn well hadn't forgotten. And Blair definitely -

Blair. BlairBlairBlair. She couldn't know that Baizen was back. How was Chuck supposed to tell her? He wasn't, he realised. Baizen was clearly just here for the money. Once he got what he wanted, he'd disappear again. He had no reason to stay. Blair never even had to know. Blair shouldn't _have _to fucking know. It wasn't like Carter would make any effort to see her. Blair would be the last thing on his mind. And Baizen, Chuck decided, would be the last thing on hers. He should be. Bastard. Chuck wished he'd never decided to throw the stupid Lost Weekend. It had been a failure so far anyway. And if he'd never thrown it, he could be in Blair's bed right now, making her forget Carter Baizen had ever even _existed. _

"Wow, that sounds amazing."

Chuck wished, for a moment, that he could forget his own best friend had ever exitsed. Nate was like a _puppy. _Was he seriously buying all of this? Of course he was. Renouncing family? Leaving the Upper East Side? Serena van der Woodsen.

"Once you get away, you realise none of the material things really matter..."

Chuck's eyes rolled to the back of his head. He was going to vomit. And then he was saved - by the telephone. With any luck, he thought as he got to his feet to answer it, there were more hookers on the way. He might be able to distract Nate with a few more leggy blondes.

"Mr. Bass?" It was concierge on the other end. Please let it be the girls. "Miss Waldorf is here to see you?"

And Chuck froze, just like that. His gaze shot to Carter before he could help it, blood running cold. Here? She was _here?_ Had she heard? Did she somehow know?

He managed to regain the function of his voice. "You know the rules." His tone was curt, automatic. "No one's allowed up unless they're on the list." Which hadn't stopped Baizen, of course. Blair would not forgive him for not letting her up. He could already picture her outraged expression, her pinched lips and the narrowing of her eyes. Folded arms. That angry brown spark in her gaze. But he didn't want to imagine her expression if she saw Carter, and he _had_ to somehow keep her away -

"I know, Mr. Bass, but we thought that since it was Miss Waldorf? Er, she's..." the voice on the receiver lowered a little, "Most insistent."

As if Chuck would ever be able to keep her out. He wasn't stupid enough to think she'd let a liitle thing like security stop her. "Send her up."

He hung up rigidly. He was already heading to the door. He'd have to intercept her before she could get in. But the doorbell outside was already sounding - she'd obviously cut past concierge anyway - and some of the guys were looking up with expressions of interest. More girls? More alcohol?

Luckily Nate was too absorbed in Carter's story - and Carter was too busy reeling him in - for either of them to pay Chuck much attention. His gut twisted in dread as he slid the door open and jammed his body right against the opening so that she couldn't get in. So that she couldn't see in. She looked so painfully delicious in her blue dress (and he'd missed her, he realised) that his stomach kicked all over again. He couldn't let her see. Not now. Just not now.

"Couldn't stay away, Waldorf?"

He kept his voice very low as he tried to close the door behind them, tried to get her out of the room. His shoulders were too tense. And his insides were so knotted, the back of his head burning with Carter's imagined gaze and the desperation to get her away, anywhere but here, that it took him a moment to realise the state _she _was in.

"I need to talk to you." He noticed her pale face for the first time, the slightly wild look in her brown eyes. Did she know? But he was still more concerned about blocking her out of his suite.

"I thought we went over the rules," he murmured back, still trying to keep his tone nonchalant. God, she smelt so good. If he could just get her into the elevator then he could lose himself in that smell -

But she pushed against his chest, hard. "Chuck. We need to talk. Let me in." She made a noise of impatience as he refused to budge. "I don't care how many whores you have in there-" Her fingers curled angrily on his shirt, because whatever debauchery lay on the other side of that door was the last thing on her mind. "Chuck," she tried again, voice low and urgent - _Chuck, _not _Bass_ - "She's back." Her eyes burned. He'd managed to guide her right out of the suite, to steer her into the corridor so that it was just the two of them, and shut the door behind him. Tight. But the relief was short-lived - now he stared at her. _She?_ "Serena's back."

Chuck's gaze slanted, watching her. Serena. Serena was back. No wonder she was in such a state. (What the hell was going on today?)

Blair ripped herself out of his hold and pulled at her headband, tugged at the pearls round her neck. "She's back." Now she'd finally said it, and it was finally real. Serena was back.

"What happened?" Chuck asked slowly.

Blair released a short, sharp breath."She turned up at my mother's penthouse, unannounced - she didn't eat anything, she just looked at me-" A very cold pair of blue eyes, a condescending hint of a smile. Not a real smile. Not the smile of the best friend she'd used to have, the one that could light up a whole room. "And then she left."

Chuck had caught Blair's wrists again, instinctively moving to calm her down. To calculate. Because when it came to Serena, Blair could lose the ability to think rationally. He had to get her back on track. Think for two of them. "She didn't say anything to you?"

"She told my mother she'd missed me." There had been that Serena ice to the beautiful blonde's tone as she'd said it, a meaningful smile in Blair's direction.

_Best friends, _her mother had smiled back. Eleanor had always loved Serena best. _Blair's missed you so much too. _Blair had smiled too, frozen on her face, and nodded like a stupid doll. She'd thrown her dinner up afterwards, paced her room and reapplied her make-up. She'd picked the telephone up to leave a message for Chuck, to tell the Palace concierge that he needed to call her back - and had ended up calling a car instead. Because she suddenly felt thrown and out of control and she needed to scheme. Because she needed someone who _knew. _

"So what are we going to do?"

That was what she needed. _We. _Chuck. She needed a plan and she needed Chuck. Because they never lost, never failed at anything when they worked together.

"We need to work out why she's back." And her mind was in gear again, just like that. All it took was the heat of his fingers and the shifting tones of his black eyes as they held hers. The curve of his mouth. The knowledge that she had him on her team and they wouldn't stop until they had the best possible plan. They were invincible. Nothing and nobody could stop them together - how could they? Not even Serena. Especially not Serena. Investigation and destruction. "And then we need to stop her." Because there was only one reason Serena could be back, really.

Revenge.

Chuck was still holding her. "I'll call my PI now."

They exchanged a glance, and he saw the calm satisfaction of a plan take hold in her eyes. The wild light was gone, replaced with the gleam of scheming. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell her about Carter now. He had to get Baizen the fuck out and concentrate on the real issue. Serena. Baizen wouldn't even be an issue by the end of the weekend. By the end of the day, with any luck. He'd have crawled back to Asia or some other godforsaken corner of the world and they'd never hear from him again.

Chuck was going to make sure of it.

"I'll pay Lily a visit." The faintest dark smile curled at her lips as her hands finally flattened against his collar. And thoughts of what was waiting for him in his suite disappeared, replaced with the knowledge that they were alone in the corridor and he could feel the heat of her body pressed against his - and the knowledge that he wouldn't see her again until he got this mess sorted. "Bass," she murmured as his lips descended on hers, "We can't - here -"

But her breath had already caught and she was already leaning up on her toes to kiss him back. Well, it had been long enough. And it wasn't like they had much time. He backed her against the wall as his hands slid up her legs, hiking her thighs around his waist. Her fingers slipped to the zipper on his pants. And she took all the stress out as her nails dug into his shoulders, as her lips and her lipstick marked his neck and her hands fisted in the dark tufts of his hair. He kissed her back just as hard - urgency and something else, a twisted guilt that pushed him to claim her mouth with his, her back arching against the wall as he thrust into her and held her tight. They were both sweating under their rumpled clothes aftewards, foreheads pressed together and hair mussed.

She dropped him a final kiss. Readjusted her lipstick, her skirt. Smoothed her hair. "Progress reports tonight? I'll call you." The tips of her fingers brushed the hollow of his throat and he suddenly pulled her close to kiss her jaw. He felt her eyelashes flutter closed at the contact and was filled with the urge to just not let go. Not let her go.

A raucous laugh from his suite snapped him out of it. She arched an eyebrow at him. "I'll let you get back to your...fun, shall I?"

One final smirk and then she was gone. He watched her figure disappear into the elevator, eyes narrowing as he pushed aside the sense of loss and replaced it with a burning resolve.

Get rid of Carter Baizen.

* * *

Blair had known Serena her whole life. Or at least it felt that way - because what memory did she have that wasn't somehow intertwined with Serena's golden hair and Serena's laugh, Serena telling her to relax and let loose, Serena stealing the spotlight and Serena dragging her into it?

She'd picked Serena up from enough drunken nights out, cleaned white dresses that the blonde could never keep clean, covered scraped knees and hidden hangovers, tucked her into bed and kept away the boys that wanted to use her and the girls that wanted to destroy her. (Which had meant nothing, in the end, given what she'd done).

So she knew when Serena was lying. She knew when Serena was mad - rare as that was - and she knew when Serena hated someone, which was almost never. Almost. She knew, still, after a year, when Serena was lying. Serena had told Eleanor her mother was expecting her home.

Blair knew she wouldn't be with Lily now. She would have put her money on a bar instead - but she wasn't supposed to know Serena any more anyway.

"The van der Woodsens," she instructed her driver as she slipped into her car.

She didn't notice the blonde watching her from the street. Serena shook her head. She'd been on her way to the Palace anyway - and what a surprise. Blair leaving. Her appearance might have seemed immaculate, but Serena knew better. So it looked like nothing had changed in the year she'd been gone. She pursed her mouth and headed inside, oblivious to the doormen's eager gazes. She'd decided she was in the mood for a martini.

* * *

Carter and Nate were still in deep in conversation at Chuck's minibar when he returned. If Nate's dazzled smile and wide eyes could be called a conversation. Carter was obviously congratulating himself on such easy money. Chuck reminded himself to check the safe once the worm was gone. Though he would gladly give up his favourite watch if it meant getting Baizen out of New York.

A swift assessment of the suite showed that most other guys were well on their way. The girls were all occupied and the alcohol depleted, air thick with smoke. Chuck's gaze landed back on his best friend. Swallowing a grimace, he moved over to them.

"Nathaniel. Can I convince you to leave your new boyfriend for a moment?"

Nate gave him a good-natured eye-roll; Carter barely a glance. "Bass," he drawled. "I meant to say - nice to see you carrying on the tradition in my absence." His careless gaze scanned the room. "What is it they say? Imitation is the highest form of flattery?"

Chuck regarded him back. Their supposed friendship had alway been about this - the rivalry. Under the banter and scotch-drinking and cigar-smoking, there had always been the edge that came from two guys that were too manipulative and too quick to ever really trust each other. There had been grudging respect on both sides, perhaps. Once upon a time. But that was long gone.

Carter was ignoring him now because he knew Chuck knew what he was up to. And he didn't care, of course. He had no idea just how much Chuck _hated _him.

He tipped Nate a wink now. "I should probably say hi to the guys, anyway." More like find a back-up plan. Just in case Nate didn't come through. Carter got to his feet and Chuck ignored him till he was out of the way.

"Carter Baizen?" he asked his best friend once they were alone. "Really?"

Nate frowned a little. "He's cool."

"He's unwashed," Chuck corrected, "And poor. Why else do you think he's back?"

The blond gave him a look. "His father died, remember?"

"At the beginning of the year," Chuck pointed out. "I didn't notice him rushing back for the funeral."

"Hey, he didn't know. He was off the grid."

Chuck angled a brow. Was Nate even listening to himself? "Off the grid? What is he, a pilot?"

"Actually, he did fly a plane over the Himalayas-"

"Are you in love with him, or something?" Chuck snapped.

Nate frowned again. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with _me?" _Chuck finally looked at him in disbelief. "What's wrong with you, Archibald? Have you forgotten everything this guy did?" And that brow was still furrowed_, _like Nate genuinely _had_ forgotten_. _Chuck managed not to grind his teeth. "Carter Baizen is an insect. He left, remember?"

"Because he was sick of it all," Nate insisted. "All the money and the drink – all it does is make you numb -"

"He left because he doesn't care about anyone," Chuck cut him off. "And the only reason he's back is for money." Nate opened his mouth to argue. "Do you remember who he left?" Chuck snarled, very softly. "Or have you swallowed so much of his bullshit that you conveniently forgot that too?"

Nate was silent, and Chuck knew then that Carter was standing behind him and had heard every word. At least some of the admiration had been wiped out of his best friend's eyes. Chuck turned so that both he and Nate were facing the guy, eyes narrowed.

Carter studied them back evenly. His face was cool and unreadable. "Look," he sighed. "I'll never forgive myself for what I did to Blair. But in the end I just would've hurt her more. She knows that."

A memory of Blair, too perfect and too glossy, eyes too bright and smile too wide – _he's gone – _flitted through Chuck's mind. Weeks and weeks and then a breakdown at a dinner party that no one spoke about, pieces of Blair all over the wall as the bubble finally burst. _He's gone. _

(And in every ruthless smile and bitchy aside and biting comeback,_ not enough not enough not enough). _

_Fuck _Baizen. Because he did know Blair, and he would've known that too, and no way was Chuck giving him the satisfaction of thinking he'd done that to her.

"Well," Chuck drawled. "I wouldn't beat yourself up too much about it. Last time I checked," he smirked a little, "I don't think Blair was taking your disappearance too hard."

He saw those blue eyes harden for just a fraction of a second, like Carter was trying to work out what he meant – and then it was gone. Carter shrugged. "I knew she'd be ok. That's Blair. She's strong." He gave Nate a self-deprecating look. "Probably better off without me anyway."

_You have no idea, _Chuck thought bitterly.

"Have you been to see her?" Nate asked.

Chuck froze and Carter's smile somehow got stuck. "I should probably get cleaned up first." He changed the subject and Chuck forced the thought away. Gone, he reminded himself. Carter would be gone by Sunday. At the latest.

* * *

"Well," Lily smiled warmly at Blair over her china teacup. "This is certainly a surprise. I feel like I've hardly seen you all year. But I suppose now that Serena's back, you will be too?"

Blair cleared her throat and forced a smile in return. "You must be so pleased that she's home."

Lily raised her eyes heavenwards. "Well, just because she's in Manhattan now doesn't mean she's home." She lifted a pointed brow at the empty penthouse – but there was fondness underneath it all. Because Lily was a mother that was genuinely fond of her daughter. The scandal must have been forgiven. (Blair wondered if she'd ever get her own mother's forgiveness if she disgraced the Waldorf name. Yes, she decided. But only after she'd been disowned).

"I'm sorry," she explained. "I figured this was where she'd be...I just wanted a chance to speak to her properly. Without everyone else around."

"Of course."

"You know," Blair went on, "She never told me she was coming back."

They were interrupted before Lily could answer. "But that's probably because you weren't speaking, isn't it?"

Eric had entered the room. Calmly, he took the seat at his mother's side, level gaze on Blair. She made her smile wider in response, almost splitting her face. "Eric. Good to see you."

The boy cocked his head a little. His tone was perfectly polite. So quiet, so unassuming. "You too." His eyes shifted to his mother. "I just spoke to Serena. She's at a friend's house, but she'll be back soon."

"Oh." Lily glanced at Blair. "Well, if you want to wait-?"

Blair was already climbing to her feet. "Actually, I really do need to get home before my mother notices I left her party." Another hasty smile, teacup sliding against its saucer.

"I'll see you out," Eric offered.

Lily ruffled his hair. "Lovely to see you, Blair."

"You too."

It wasn't till they were alone in the hallway that Eric stopped her. "Look," he said evenly. "She may not know what you did to Serena, but I sure as hell do." His eyes glowed in warning. Eric had used to be her baby when they'd played moms and dads. She and Chuck had taken down his first grade bully. She'd used to think he was her little brother by extension. (But she and Serena were hardly sisters any more). "You're not welcome here. I don't care what you're up to – just stay away."

Blair arranged her features into a brittle smile. "Nice to see you too, Eric."

And then she'd left.

* * *

Carter pondered his choice of Nate Archibald as he left the suite. He'd had enough of the fools - more than he could take in one night - and the party had started to wind down anyway. Nate had seemed at first like a great choice. Trusting, wide-eyed and in desperate need of an escape. But Carter had forgotten about Bass. Forgotten about their little friendship.

Because of course Bass had been the only guy not to trust him. Carter guessed he was a threat to the perfect hierarchy Chuck had created, the smooth image of the newest CB and all his followers. But more importantly, a threat to Nate. Carter had felt the sheer animosity aimed at him. Animosity that Nate had been oblivious to, and Carter had chosen to ignore. But he needed to get Nate away from his little guard dog. And to do that he needed to create a rift between them.

He paused as he entered the bar, planning on taking a stool - but there was someone in his seat. A figure that he recognised, and he tilted his head in intrigue as he regarded her. Well.

"Van der Woodsen." He took the stool at her side. She looked exactly like the hot mess he remembered, all legs and golden hair and two empty martini glasses. She flashed him a sideways look.

"Carter."

"I didn't realise you were back, beautiful." He signalled a glass for himself. "You decided to stop drowning your sorrows in Europe?"

Serena just shook her head and took another long drink. "What are you doing here, Carter?"

"I've got a room," he answered easily. "If you're interested." He didn't mean it and they both knew it. Serena rolled her eyes. He glanced at her again. "And you? Looking for your ex-fiance?" The word was deliberate - he'd only found out today, after all - but she just sighed. He took a sip of whiskey. "You never did tell me," he drawled, "In Santorini. Failed to mention that you were running away from an engagement to Bass." She sighed again as her finger trailed the edge of her glass. "So what happened?" Carter enquired. "Did you leave him at the altar?"

Serena set her drink down and finally turned that blue gaze on him. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. It didn't meet her eyes. "You can't have done your research too well, Carter, or you'd know. It made enough headlines." She rose from her seat, legs impossibly long and bare in a long-sleeved grey dress that might otherwise have been modest. "Have you spoken to Blair yet?"

Carter kept his tone flat. "No."

Serena smiled again, that same patronising smile. "Are you scared, Carter?" His lip curled. He said nothing. Serena tossed her hair and turned to go - and then she paused over her shoulder. For a moment Carter didn't think she'd say anything. "Don't worry," she told him softly. "I won't tell her. About us."

Carter's grip was suddenly very tight around his glass. He turned his grimace into a smile. An ugly one. "There is no us."

"Yeah," Serena smiled. "It was just one night in Santorini. And you were broken up anyway. Right?" She gave him another look, and then she was gone. Heads turned as she walked out.

Carter downed his whiskey in one.

He ordered another.

* * *

**A/N - Ok, I am so so sorry for the lack of updates across the board...I don't really have an excuse, other than I've been very busy the past month. And am supposed to be dissertation rather than fanfic writing. Oops. Also, I promise promise that 'In This City' and 'Homecoming' updates are on the way, but this is all I've had time to finish for now! Please forgive me? :) And thank you very much for all the wonderful reviews! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N - So, so, so sorry it's taken me so long to update! I really hope there's still some interest in this fic, and thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews :) **

* * *

Carter had slept awfully. The stifling hotel room, the scotch repeating in his stomach and a sense of sheer _irritation _had kept him up most of the night. He didn't want to be back in this fucking city. Why had he come back? Sure, he needed to scam a clueless Upper East Sider out of their money. Nate Archibald would get the job done today – Carter had run into a bunch of guys the night before and promised them he'd have a game set up. Easy pickings.

The plan had been to get the cash and then face his mother. He'd told Akkarat that he was going back for his father's funeral - not strictly true, since he'd already missed the actual event, but there was a memorial service from one of Edward Baizen's charities scheduled for Monday. Carter had seen it in the newspaper and had at least had a notion, in Phuket, of attending. That much, he'd thought, he should do. Monday would be when he faced that world again. The end of the Lost Weekend was supposed be the end of his anonymity in the city. (Bar a certain blonde last night). If, that was. If he chose to go back at all. He could just as easily get the money and get the next flight out of New York. But then what was the point in coming back at all? Because spoilt trust fund brats that he already had an in with were the best targets? He'd had some sense, as he'd left Phuket, that he'd been doing it for a reason. That he needed to be in New York again. There had been a feeling of inevitability – but since last night, since Serena van der Woodsen and everything she meant, all it was was dread. And why the hell would he put himself through that? His mother, his mother's friends, the Waldorfs -

Jesus.

He winced through a mouthful of water – the glass still tasted faintly of last night's scotch – and ran a hand through his hair. If he really was intending on going back, properly, then he'd need to get cleaned up. His stubble-engrained jaw and threadbare shirt wouldn't really do the trick. Well, he needed money first if he wanted a decent suit. He grabbed his room key and headed out of the door.

* * *

Chuck was woken by Blair slapping his arm. He sat up, grumbling, as she attempted to shove him out of her bed.

"Bass. Dorota will be here in five minutes. Which means you need to _leave._"

They could hear Eleanor and Cyrus downstairs at the breakfast table – but Chuck was a little more concerned with the girl in the slip at his side. Her thighs were warm and bare as he reached for her again, inhaling the morning scent of her hair. Not even her furious glare was enough to deter him. (If anything, it just made him want her more).

"Chuck!"

Finally, rolling his eyes, he was forced to desist. Only because Blair's fingernails wrapped in his hair were threatening to pull a tuft right out. And he was quite fond of his hair.

Her eyes were still narrowed at him as he pulled his shirt over his head. He glanced at her, curled on the bed, and smirked a little. Sleepy. "Take a picture. It might last longer."

She scoffed. But she was still watching him as he dressed. And she knelt up on the mattress to adjust his tie. "You're seeing Andrew Tyler today?"

He pulled a face. "As soon as I can get out of the game." He enjoyed basketball with Nate usually – but he knew without a doubt that there'd be a certain someone else there today. Someone who'd better be gone afterwards. Someone who was already putting his back up -

Blair raised an eyebrow, hands slipping over his chest for a moment. He realised then that she was still watching him. "Is the thought of physical activity really making you that tense?" she enquired.

He forced it away with a smirk, hands sliding to her waist to distract her. "Well, I can think of physical activity I'd much rather be doing..."

Her head tilted back as he kissed her neck, and a soft noise escaped her throat – but she wasn't fooled. She pushed him off for a moment. "What's getting to you so much, Bass?" Her lips pursed. "You weren't in the best state last night."

He'd turned up at the Waldorf penthouse drunker than she'd seen him in a while. And Chuck didn't get that drunk – not unless there was a reason.

He'd muttered something about Nate and his delusions pissing him off and then pulled her into bed, cutting her off. She'd known that was what he needed; Chuck always preferred to talk after. Only he hadn't this time. He'd been silent as she'd lain curled on his chest – and she'd let him get away with it, put it down to too much alcohol because she'd been uptight enough herself. She'd made no progress on Serena.

But she studied him now. His golden eyes were darker than usual, shadowed like he'd got no sleep. And she'd felt him tossing and turning enough times as she'd slipped in and out of consciousness herself.

"Maybe the Lost Weekend is finally losing its charm," was all he muttered.

She regarded him a moment longer, still not entirely believing as her fingers smoothed his tie one last time. Well, she'd get to the bottom of it. She started to push him in the direction of her bedroom door. "Make sure Eleanor doesn't hear you."

He rolled his eyes – what did she think he was, an amateur? - and pulled her wrist to him for one last kiss. She shoved him once they finally broke apart, and he grinned as he disappeared down the corridor with the taste of her still in his mouth. She hid a smile too, unable to stop it. But the smile narrowed decisively as she watched him go.

Because there was definitely _something_ he was trying to hide from her.

* * *

Carter hid an eye-roll as he approached the basketball court. Nate was there, sure enough – and sure enough, so was his bodyguard. Wearing a very ugly expression as he saw Carter draw closer.

"Oh no," Chuck drawled within earshot, "Who invited the senior citizen?"

"Nate." Carter ignored the other boy. "How are you, man?"

Nate smiled back and Chuck's scowl darkened. And then as Carter stepped up for team selection, Chuck snapped to attention. Carter had expected as much. "I'm sorry," Chuck sounded anything but, "We already have enough players." He gave Carter a contemptuous look.

Carter snorted – did Bass honestly think he'd care about not being included in a _game? _No, of course not. He was just trying to stop his path to Nate in any way possible. Well, Carter figured, it was now or never.

He pulled Nate to one side. "Look, I'm gonna go. But if you want to take a step out into the real world, then you should meet me tonight. There's a game at this place in Queens." He handed the guy a sheet of paper with some directions. "Maybe I'll see you there." He gave a final smirk and then disappeared.

He knew Archibald had already decided to go. Provided he didn't tell Bass, it would all work out tonight.

Chuck ignored the sheer bile – loathing – in his throat as he saw Carter vanish. Good riddance. But he wasn't stupid enough to think the worm wouldn't be back. And, unknown to Blair, he'd made alternative plans with his PI. Namely not letting Baizen out of his sight for the rest of the day. Whatever he was up to, Chuck would be prepared.

* * *

Blair had spent time washing and changing into a peach day dress – and she froze, now, on the Waldorf's sweeping marble staircase. Because she'd just heard a laugh coming from the dining room, a laugh that she prayed she'd somehow mistaken. But when she rounded the corner, she was met with the sight of one glowing blonde sat, perfectly at home, between her mother and stepfather. Serena was in the middle of a story so captivating that it took a moment for anyone to even notice Blair was there.

"Morning."

Her mother finally glanced up. "Oh, Blair. There you are. Well," she sniffed, "It's hardly morning any more."

"Serena." Blair's voice prickled in her throat. "I didn't realise you were coming over."

The blonde rose from the table with a wide, cool smile. "I thought I'd surprise you. Who doesn't love surprises?" She came over to embrace her best friend, and Blair couldn't help but feel instantly inferior. Serena was tanned, skin golden and hair even more so, dressed in a shockingly tiny skirt with a loose crocheted blouse and knee-length socks, beads strung around her neck. She looked messy and so effortlessly beautiful compared to Blair's prim dress and pearls that Blair wanted to be sick.

"What are you girls up to today?" Cyrus asked, oblivious.

And before Blair could open her mouth to say _nothing, _Serena was already answering. "We're going shopping."

"We are?" Blair managed. The very last thing in the world she wanted was to go shopping with her best friend.

Serena smiled again, and there was no mistaking the ice in her eyes. "We are."

* * *

Carter was killing time catching up with the society pages when he saw her. (Or maybe he'd avoided looking at the gossip for so long because of the precise knowledge that he _would _see her). It was a small picture from a week ago, a gala. Blair Waldorf had been escorted by Prince Theodore. The black and white image didn't really show him anything other than a ball gown and her hair swept up. Her smile didn't look like a real one. He couldn't tell from the picture if the prince was anyone significant in her life. He looked respectable.

She'd used to scour the papers for these pictures, to check that whatever reporter had chosen the best possible angle, that she was shown in the best possible light. The worst had been her Cotillion - he remembered her fussing with her dress for ages before the photograph. He wondered if she'd done the same for this gala, if Prince Theodore had yanked her hands away and asked her, dry, how she could _not _look beautiful; swept her into the ballroom and kissed away her complaints in the car.

And then he shoved the thought away, because he should hardly have cared any more. Because it wasn't his place to care anymore. Because he wouldn't be the tuxedoed figure at her side in photos ever again - and that had been his choice.

(What the fuck was he doing back here?)

* * *

"Where do you wanna go first, Blair? Bendels?"

They were walking down the sidewalk, Blair's grip impossibly tight on her cream leather bag. The spring air felt balmy and oppressive, the sun high in the sky. Their heels clicked on the street - and men turned to look. At Serena. Serena who was smiling like neither of them had a care in the world. Blair had finally had enough.

"I don't feel like shopping," she enunciated.

"All right then. We'll get lunch." Serena was already leading the way.

"Serena-"

The blonde gave her a single look over her shoulder, a toss of her golden hair. Blue green eyes narrowed, smile still curled. "We need to talk, don't we? B?" Her tone was very deliberate.

Blair grit her teeth.

Fine. They were going to talk. She adjusted her hold on her bag and followed her _best friend _into the nearest restaurant. Whatever Serena threw at her, she was ready to take. They chose the table by the window, Serena folding her impossibly long legs over the chair as the waiter hovered around her. "We'll take the lobster bisque." She sent him away with a single radiant smile. "Your favourite, right B?"

Blair forced back some water. "Not really." She pressed her hands into her lap as they faced each other across the table. Best friends having lunch. They'd used to come to this restaurant a lot; they'd used to share the meringue dessert, once Serena had talked Blair into it.

Serena leaned back against her seat now, bare arms slid over the top. She tilted her head. "So. How is everything, B? Eleanor and Cyrus look happy. When did they tie the knot?"

"November."

Serena made a little moue. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to see the ceremony."

"It was very small," Blair cut back. "Just family."

The blonde laughed and threw back her hair. "Oh, come on. I'm practically family. Doesn't Eleanor always say I'm like the daughter she never had?"

Blair refused to be fazed. She merely arched a brow. "Does she?"

Serena gave her a little look, smile settling. There was silence for a moment. "And how's everything else?" she asked. She watched the brunette as she got no answer. Released a short sigh, deliberate. "How's Chuck?"

Blair regarded her coldly. "I wouldn't know."

The other girl pretended to look confused. "Really? Did the two of you fall out?"

"That's really none of your business."

Serena took a sip of her drink, chin propped on her hand. "Come on, B." She leaned a little closer. "We're best friends, aren't we? You used to tell me everything. I know you didn't tell me about Chuck first time round...but you can tell me now." She smiled. "Can't you?"

Blair set her own glass on the polished table as her lips pressed together. "Serena." Her tone was acidic. "What do you want?"

Serena raised an innocent brow. "What do you mean? I want to catch up with you. I want to see how my best friend has been doing the past year."

"I've been great." Her tone signalled the end of the conversation, an end to the pretence. "Thanks."

Her _best friend_ studied her. "So did you and Chuck go public? Has he proposed yet?"

The napkin was a twisted shape in Blair's lap, wrung through her hands as she kept her gaze on the blonde quite flat. "There's nothing going on with me and Chuck." Her voice came out expressionless.

Serena smiled again. "Right." The look she gave her was one of pity, head still tilted and blue eyes bright. "Don't you want to know how my year was, B?" she asked after a while.

Blair's mouth twisted. Brittle. "No."

The two of them gazed at each other. Finally, Serena let out a faint snort. "You're not even sorry," she said very softly, "Are you?" Blair said nothing. Her eyes were blank as she watched Serena back. Serena shook her head. "Of course not." It was almost a murmur. She got to her feet just as the waiter brought out the lobster; he noticed her leave with an expression of dismay.

"Would mademoiselle like the bath-?"

"No, I'm done." She gave a little nod in Blair's direction. "I'm sure you can finish it."

Blair's stomach turned at the steaming plate of shellfish in front of her. Serena was already heading out the door - and then Blair was on her feet, tossing a bill down for the untouched food. She followed the blonde straight out into the street.

"Serena."

The other girl turned, mouth open. Challenging. Asking her why she'd followed. And for a moment, there was something in her blue eyes that might almost have been hope - and something flickered in Blair's chest. Something painful. (They'd used to fight all the time, over clothes and boys and friends and attention – and always, the second one of them apologised was the second that they were forgiven. Because they'd never been able to live without each other, not really – how could they?)

Blair didn't apologise. Her eyes slanted instead, lifting her chin. "Why are you back?" she asked.

Serena let out a noise of – disappointment? Disgust? Her gaze burned fierce and cold as she smiled again, shaking her head. "I told you. I want to catch up." She half turned, glancing over her shoulder. "And I think the Palace is my next stop."

Something snapped inside Blair. She jolted forwards with a hiss. "Leave him alone."

Serena paused, looking down at the hand Blair had almost stretched out to stop her. At the dark danger in the brunette's eyes. "I thought there was nothing going on between you?" Her mouth had curved in determined triumph as Blair fought the emotion that gripped her. "Don't worry," Serena murmured. Her face was inches from the smaller girl's. "I didn't come back to destroy Chuck." She was close enough that Blair could smell the sweet scent of her wild hair, close enough that Blair was in danger of being singed. "I came back for you, B."

And then she was gone.

* * *

"You're sure he's good for the money?"

Carter rolled his eyes. The guy had asked him the same question four times in the past hour alone. "I'm sure." He took another drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the side. The room was dark and smoky, wallpaper peeling and yellowed. He doubted Archibald would feel too at home here. They were still waiting for him to show up. Carter, in contrast to the others, seemed perfectly at ease. They didn't realise he was planning on scamming them out of the money too. He only needed them to set up the game, to have someone to blame when Nate lost a nice percentage of his trust fund.

"He's late."

"He'll be here," Carter sighed. "Trust me."

One of the guys just snorted. _Trust_ Carter Baizen? Carter ignored them.

* * *

The boys poured out of the Palace foyer and towards the waiting town cars, drinks already lined up at the next bar. Nate lingered at the back. Chuck saw and had to hold back a noise of irritation. His friend had come to a stop outside one of the cars, clearly not planning on getting in.

"Nathaniel." He waited for the blond. "Are you coming?"

Nate sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No...I think I'll give this one a miss."

"Come on," Chuck snapped. He fought to keep his tone light. "The girls are waiting."

But the blond just shook his head. "I don't want to go."

Chuck regarded him for a moment. Finally, teeth gritted, "Carter Baizen-"

"He's right," Nate insisted. His eyes were bright and determined behind his thick golden bangs. Desperate. "You don't understand. He gets it."

"Gets what?" Chuck demanded in a snarl. How could Nate not see through it? Chuck knew he was desperate for something, anything to believe in - but why Carter Baizen? Why did _no one_ see through him? He'd left. He'd left, and he didn't belong here any more. The messy hair, the tatty clothes, the faux dislike of material goods - it was everything Chuck disdained. Everything Nate, who never had a golden hair out of place - even when he played sport - should have disdained. And they were still all gawping after him, staring at him like he was incredible. All of them _still _held Carter Baizen in such fucking awe.

(And if they were all impressed by him, still, then surely she-)

"This isn't what I want, Chuck. I don't want to be part of this world any more. I want to get out, I want to see things."

"See _what, _exactly?"

Nate struggled to find the right words. To work out what he meant. "Just...I'm sick of it. I'm sick of all of it. Don't you ever just want...more?"

Chuck knew Nate had no idea what he was really saying. He knew he was just repeating the words that Baizen had fed him. And that was just it. "More what?" His gaze had slanted, though Nate had yet to notice. Chuck knew what he wanted. Chuck _had_ what he wanted. And Carter? Carter had had all of it. He'd thrown it all away and he wasn't going to get it back.

"I don't know," Nate said helplessly. "Just more than this." He turned away, shaking his head again - and then stopped. Stopped, and stared. His heart had suddenly caught in his throat. It couldn't be.

Chuck followed his gaze and repressed a groan. Oh, great. Just what they needed.

"Serena?"

The blonde was on her way into the Palace, entirely unaware of their presence - and Nate could only stare. She was back? He couldn't stop himself. He was already calling her name, already reaching out to her. She was _here._

Serena had stopped herself, gaze sweeping past Chuck to linger on Nate, and Chuck was sure there was pain written all over her face. "Nate."

"What are you doing here?" He'd forgotten that he was supposed to be mad at her, forgotten his sense of loss, forgotten that he was meant to be meeting Carter Baizen - forgotten Carter Baizen even existed.

She paused and bit her lip. "I just, uh...I wanted a drink."

"Sounds like you," Chuck drawled.

That blue gaze finally focused on him. "Chuck." Her tone turned cool.

And the reminder of Chuck's presence seemed to snap Nate out of it too. He tore his eyes away, just for a second. "So...you're back now?" His voice sounded foreign to his own ears. He'd forgotten how painful it was just to look at her. All the hurt, all the memories -

"Yeah." She broke the connection first.

Nate looked away too. "Great."

"Maybe Nate could join you for your drink," Chuck suggested idly. "Since he's not joining us for the last part of the Lost Weekend."

Two pairs of blue eyes were frozen. "Actually," Serena swallowed, "I just remembered I have to be somewhere." She was already turning to go. "I'll...see you." She'd gone.

Nate's hand had dropped, unhappiness written into his every feature as he watched her disappear. He turned away.

"Nathaniel," Chuck started.

"Don't." Nate warned him, quiet. "Just don't."

* * *

"He's half an hour late."

Carter rolled his eyes. "He's coming."

The guy to his right flexed his knuckles. "Is he? Cause it don't look too promising, Baizen."

He just fixed the guy with a look. "I said he'd be here, and he'll be here."

They were all muttering among themselves now, glancing to the door. Carter hoped Bass hadn't somehow got to him. Because if Chuck had got involved, then there was no way of knowing Nate would show up at all.

"Well-"

They were cut off as the door finally swung open. Carter got to his feet, a smirk on his face - and then the smirk died.

Chuck Bass was standing in the doorway.

Alone.

* * *

Blair had given up on Chuck's PI - she needed information, and she needed it fast - and had sent the next best thing. Dorota. The maid had been tailing Serena while Blair sat in at afternoon tea with the Colony Club. She'd received a call from a telephone booth, however, informing her that the blonde was on the way to the Palace.

And that decided it.

She'd quickly excused herself from the ladies' company and headed into a car herself. Whatever Serena was up to, Blair was going to stop. She'd had enough of sitting around doing nothing. Which was why she was now heading straight into the Palace bar. She figured it was the most likely place. But a quick scan revealed no trace of the leggy blonde. She must have left already. Blair was on the verge of leaving herself - and ready to chastise Dorota for some second-rate stalking - when a voice called her name.

Nate was slumped at the bar by himself. Clearly several drinks down.

Blair cocked her head at him, reproving, before she deigned to take the stool at his side. "Nate," she sighed. She'd heard enough about his moods lately from Chuck. And she'd seen enough. "Why aren't you out getting drunk with the others?"

"Didn't feel like it," came Nate's morose reply.

Blair scrutinized him. And then she deflated a little. "You saw Serena."

"Yeah." He glanced at her. "You knew she was back?"

"Obviously."

Nate swirled the drink around in his glass, miserable. "I think Chuck knew too. He sure didn't look surprised to see her. Why does no one tell me anything?"

Blair raised her eyes heavenwards. "She only got back yesterday."

"Yeah," he muttered.

Blair paused. Chuck had seen her. That meant she must have been here. "Did she say anything?" She kept her tone nonchalant.

Nate shook his head wearily. "No. Just left."

"Right." Well, no doubt seeing Nate had thrown her.

"She's back," Nate murmured again. "She's...back."

She was. Blair suddenly felt very tired. She pulled a face and reached for Nate's drink, deciding that she needed it. He glanced at her in surprise; she winced. It tasted foul. Of course it did. "This is disgusting, Archibald."

He grinned a little despite himself, though his eyes were still sad. "Yeah, it is." They sat side by side in silence. Nate soon resumed his brooding. "It's weird," he sighed, "Huh?" Blair nodded - although she had a nasty feeling that weird wasn't the appropriate word for it. She'd always known that Serena would be back. She'd just tried to pretend it wouldn't happen. "I mean," Nate was sighing, "First Carter, now Serena..."

Blair frowned a little. What? "Carter?" she echoed in confusion. Just how drunk _was_ Nate?

Nate gave her a look of surprise. "You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

Nate paused as though wondering whether to tell her. "Carter," he said at last. "He's back too. He's in New York."

* * *

"Bass." Carter regarded him evenly. "What are you doing here?"

He could feel the other guys shifting, staring between them – they'd be throwing punches in a second. Chuck couldn't have come at a worse time.

The other boy's mouth twisted. "Why?" he enquired. "Expecting someone else?" And, when Carter said nothing, "I'm afraid Nate found something better to do. He won't be coming."

There was a low growl from one of the men.

"Just hang on," Carter told them, glancing at Chuck. "I'll sort this." He gave them a brief smile – one that was met with eyes narrowed in accusation – before taking Chuck to the side. "Unless you're ready to play, Bass, I suggest you leave."

Chuck let out a short laugh. "I'm not going anywhere until I know that I never have to see you again."

Carter snorted. "Well-"

"I mean it," Chuck cut him off. "I will _pay _to not have to see your slimy face." Carter stared. "Ten thousand and a plane ticket."

Carter tried to work out if he was being serious – ten thousand? But the harsh light in his eye left little doubt. Chuck wanted him gone. "Well," he drawled after a pause. "I guess I underestimated just how much you love your little boyfriend - if you'd really pay that much to keep me away from him. I hope Archibald appreciates it."

Chuck smiled coolly. "Or maybe you underestimated just how much I hate you."

Carter looked at him. And he saw it, for the first time – the loathing in that gaze. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm heartbroken. Didn't we used to be friends?"

"You used to be a lot of things," Chuck reflected. "A long time ago. Then you left."

Carter studied him a while longer. His lip curled, faintly. "But you're not pissed at me for leaving, are you?" He shook his head. "You're pissed at me for coming back."

"I could care less," Chuck responded with quiet calm, "As long as you leave again." Carter saw the cheque in his hand. "Take the money and go."

And Carter took it, turning it over. "Where's my plane to?"

"Australia."

Carter made a noise of amusement. He had the ticket now too. "That must have cost you bit. Couldn't think of anywhere further away?"

"Unfortunately nowhere flies to the South Pole."

Carter smiled again. "You know, I missed you."

"Really?" Chuck sneered. "Because no one missed you."

"You're killing me," the other guy deadpanned back. "Seriously."

"Not Nate. Not your parents, I'm sure. Not Blair."

There was almost something dangerous in Carter's eyes, but he just rolled them and snorted. "Right. Are you going somewhere with this?"

"Just that it's best for everyone if you leave now. You don't have to worry this time," his voice had turned into a sneer, "That someone might wonder where you are. Because...they won't." He smirked and it was like ice. "Clear?"

Carter raised his gaze to the ceiling. "Clear, Bass." He gave Chuck's shoulder a condescending pat as he pocketed the cheque and plane ticket. "Thanks for the cash. Even I wasn't expecting that much." And he sauntered right out without a backwards glance. He knew it would take a moment for the guys to work out what was going on - and when they did, Chuck would still be there.

He smiled hard as he strolled down the corridor and out of the building, money secure in his pocket.

* * *

Chuck turned up at the Waldorfs another ten thousand dollars poorer, his jacket creased from where the guys had grabbed it until he'd paid up. But Carter was gone. Andrew Tyler had seen him heading for the airport - he'd be halfway across the world by tomorrow. That was all that mattered.

Now he could devote all his energies to helping Blair be rid of Serena. Now he could devote all his energies to_ relaxing_ Blair, he decided as the elevator climbed its way to the Waldorf penthouse. Not to mention relaxing himself. He felt like all the weight had been lifted from his shoulders, the air and all its familiar Waldorf floor wax deliciously sweet. He could breathe again. And he couldn't wait bury himself in the even sweeter scent of Blair's hair, her sheets and her pillows and her warm limbs wrapped around his.

He was met with Dorota once the elevator doors opened. She had her arms folded. Chuck arched an eyebrow at her and tried to slip past and up to Blair's room - but he barely got out of the elevator compartment.

She was blocking his way. "Miss Blair not here."

Chuck frowned. It was nine o'clock. Their planned meeting time, and Blair was never late. Neither was he. "Where is she?"

The Polish maid had drawn herself upright. "She say to tell you, she has to find new PI. She knows what you use yours for. She knows."

At that, Chuck stilled. She couldn't know. _Damn _Andrew Tyler - had she got impatient and somehow forced it out of him? What the hell had happened to loyalty? Customer confidentiality? But she couldn't know Carter was back. And it didn't matter anyway, he told himself. Carter was long gone. Except that Blair was going to be very, very pissed. She did not forgive witholding information, not from each other. Chuck grit his teeth as Dorota scowled at him. "Well, do you know when she'll be back?" He kept his tone polite.

The woman turned her nose up. "She not say."

Chuck had already dropped onto the chaise long. "Then I'll wait."

* * *

Blair was back in the Palace. She wasn't sure why. There had been, briefly, something wrong with her stomach, with her balance, with her head. She hadn't been sick and she hadn't been drunk. But just for a moment, it had all been threatening to come back up.

She didn't want it.

So she'd forced it away.

She'd intended on punishing Chuck by just not being home when he got there, but now she needed to see him. Needed to see at him so she could _hurt _him. Now she felt very calm as her heels snapped along the hotel's polished marble. Distant. Like she was watching herself from above march through the Palace foyer.

Find Chuck. Hurt him. Simple.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we're going to have to call you a taxi..."

She came to a stop as she recognised the familiar figure being escorted out, and repressed a groan. Nate. His blond hair was a mess, his suit rumpled. He looked like he could rival Serena on one of her worse night's out - he'd clearly stayed at the bar after Blair had left.

"Archibald," she sighed.

The doormen glanced at her. "Are you with him, miss?"

"I know where he lives. Just put him in the cab."

Nate was hardly with it as she climbed into the car after him and gave the driver directions. In fact, he'd fallen asleep. This was really Chuck's job, Blair thought irritably as she leaned back against the leather seats. She'd tried calling up before following Nate into the car, to tell him as much, but had been informed that Mr. Bass was out. Mr. Basstard, more like. It just wasn't appropriate. If someone saw -

This was _all_ Chuck's fault. All of it, all of it.

"Blair," Nate mumbled as the car pulled to a stop, finally coming to. "Where are we?"

"Home," Blair sniped. "Now how are you going to get in without your parents seeing?"

"Not here," was Nate's barely comprehensible reply. "...Dad's on business, mom's setting up in the Hamptons..."

Well, at least that solved one issue. Blair clicked at the driver. "Help me get him up." She managed to get the man to lever Nate onto a couch, once they'd eventually got into the house, and now she was getting the blond a glass of water.

It took Nate a while to take hold of the tumbler, blinking at her. "Thanks." He seemed a bit confused by it all. But he was far easier than anything Blair had ever had to deal with looking after a drunk Serena. Or a drunk Chuck - though that had only really been on his birthday, because he didn't usually get so far gone that he couldn't look after himself. And now she knew why he'd got so drunk the night before. But she slammed down on that thought. She shouldn't even be thinking about Chuck. Well, other than working out how she was going to punish him. God, she hated him. She wanted to _hurt -_

"Blair." Nate fixed his sleepy gaze on her. "I'm really sorry," he managed.

"It's fine," Blair answered drily. "Just don't throw up on my shoes, ok?" Serena had done that enough times.

Nate's blue eyes creased as he remembered. Then he shook his head. "No, I mean...I'm sorry for telling you about Carter. I shouldn't have thrown it at you, I guess. It's just, Serena-"

"It's fine." Blair cut him off without even looking at him.

Nate paused. "Are you sure? Cause at the bar, earlier, when I told you, you seemed kind of-"

"What?" Blair snapped. Her eyes had narrowed fatally. "I seemed kind of what?"

The blond rubbed his hair. "Weird."

"Well, I'm fine."

He shook his bangs again. "I just mean, I know what you're going through-"

"I'm not going through anything." There was pure ice in her tone. "All right, Nate? Now get some sleep." She'd already risen from the couch and was switching off the light. It didn't take long. Nate's snores were soon sounding through the apartment.

She paused in the doorway. She should be getting home. But the thought that Serena could just pop round at any time - Serena, the _last _thing she needed right now -

No one would know she was at Nate's. No one would find her here, at least for tonight. And she needed that. She doubted she'd be getting any sleep in any case. So she headed for the guest bedroom. And she climbed into the cold comforter and lay on her back gazing at the ceiling - and she made her thoughts blank. She focused only on new and inventive ways of torturing Chuck, filled her mind with images of his eyes and his face till she was drowning in black and gold.

* * *

"This is the final call for Pan Am flight 82 to Sydney. Passengers, please make your way to the gate for boarding."

Carter fingered the ticket in his pocket. He'd told Bass the truth - he'd got far more money than he'd been expecting to make. Best to cut his losses and run. Why did he want to stick around in Manhattan anyway? Forget Monday. Forget all of it. He could set up nicely in Sydney, hit a few games, find new people to scam - and he could have double this. Triple, even. What would he get if he stayed here? He didn't need to be here at all. He could call his mother if he really felt so inclined.

Besides, the ticket was first class.

He moved straight to the front of the queue at the gate, pulling the slip of paper out and dropping it onto the counter. The pretty air hostesses all smiled at him. The sky had darkened outside - he'd sleep comfortably on those first class chairs.

"I'm sorry, sir. Can we have your ticket please?"

Carter finally glanced at the counter. He paused. He hadn't put the ticket down at all. The crumpled page of a newspaper lay on the shiny surface, the face of one brunette smiling fakely up at him and a bemused airport worker.

"Sir?"

Carter shook his head. He didn't want to go back to New York. He'd got what he came for. Time to go.

Couldn't even tell in the photo if she was happy. Carter didn't even care if she was happy. He'd left her, hadn't he? She didn't miss him. She'd probably marry Prince Theodore. He hoped she did. It was a fucking _photograph. _How the hell had it even ended up in his pocket?

"Sir, do you have your ticket or not?" They were all looking at him expectantly.

He shrugged. His voice felt removed. "Not."

He was still fingering his cheque, the damn clipping, the whole car ride back. As the Empire State Building loomed once more on the horizon, as those tall buildings engulfed his taxi. Anyway, he mused. His return would piss Chuck off no end. It was worth it just for that.

No one told Carter Baizen when to leave.


	6. Chapter 6

Eleanor was not in a good mood when Blair returned home the next morning.

"Where on earth have you been?" She practically pounced on her daughter as she stepped out of the elevator, ushering her through into the lounge where Dorota stood waiting. "Did you come home at all last night?" she demanded. Dorota had already started helping Blair remove her coat.

"Sorry," Blair muttered as her mother turned her round, holding up a black dress and angling her head critically. "I was with Serena."

As expected, Eleanor's face relaxed just a little at the mention of the perfect blonde. Blair fought not to roll her eyes. She'd figured her ex best friend would be the safest answer. (She'd left Nate nursing his hangover). But Eleanor was already occupied with adjusting the dress, poking pins into the material of what was clearly an Eleanor Waldorf original. "The sleeves are too long," she snapped, irritated. "Just like I thought. If I have to tell Laurel one more time..."

"Am I going to a funeral?" Blair enquired at last as she took in the black lace. It was spring - florals and bright colours were in, and it was far too early in the season for _black. _

Eleanor made a noise of exasperation. "The Edward Baizen memorial service is today. Don't tell me you forgot?"

Blair froze. She'd known the memorial service was coming up - but she'd been a touch too distracted to realise just how soon. "Today?" she repeated, stupidly.

"_Yes_," Eleanor sighed. "It starts in two hours, and we haven't even done your hair." The only reason her mother even wanted her to attend, Blair knew, was to rub in Victoria's face just how well she was doing. How gracious she was. And for that, she of course needed to look her best. "Apparently the Hornbys haven't been invited," Eleanor went on - as though the very fact had been designed just to aggravate her - "And Anne's already in the Hamptons. So we'll just have to sit with the Basses."

But her mother's voice sounded like it was coming from a hundred miles away. Would he be there? Was he even still in New York? And what would people say, if he _was_ there? It was all anyone would be able to talk about. Not Blair's dress, or how beautiful Blair looked, or who the Waldorfs were sitting with - why was Eleanor even bothering to worry about that? If Carter really was back, then that was the only thing New York would care about. And if she was in the same room as him, then they'd all be looking. It didn't matter how flawless her hair was. They'd all be looking to see if Blair Waldorf really was heartbroken. To see just how badly Carter Baizen had hurt her.

"Charles had better be there," Eleanor sniffed. "Perhaps you should call him, Blair, and make sure."

"He'll be there." Her voice was oddly flat. Oh, she was sure Chuck would be there. Chuck who'd known the whole time. The whole weekend, and had said nothing. Not even a hint. Chuck, who'd kept the information to himself and left it to slap Blair right in the face when she needed it least. Chuck would be there all right.

* * *

The memorial service was being held in the Peterson Hall - and the car journey there, to Blair, seemed to stretch out forever. The collar of Eleanor's exquisite black dress was scratchy against her neck, the layers of lace too thick for the heat of the sun outside. And still Blair couldn't explain the light shiver as she followed her mother into the hall, the tap of her heels insignificant against the large stone steps. The room inside was already filled with golden backed chairs, most of them occupied. Eleanor swept straight to the front - and Blair, for the first time, wished she wouldn't. They moved past Lily in the fourth row - she smiled warmly at them and Blair felt just a little sicker - and directly to where Bart sat in the third.

The seat next to him, Blair saw, was empty.

The Basstard was late.

She focused all her anger on that empty seat, anything rather than letting her gaze stray to the front of the hall. He was deliberately late, she knew. Just as she knew that he'd turn up. Eventually.

"Well," Eleanor sighed. "Isn't that a lovely picture of Edward?"

Blair agreed without looking.

But she knew.

She'd felt it the second they'd entered; the tension. The whispers. The surreptitious glances to the front. And she knew Eleanor had noticed too, as the two of them took their seats. Blair's stockings stuck to her legs. The metal of the chair cold was under the tight grip of her fingers.

And there it was - Eleanor's sharp intake of breath.

"Blair," she hissed in her daughter's ear. Blair tried to pretend she hadn't heard. But then Eleanor's fingers were biting into her arm. "Blair. _What_ is Carter Baizen doing here?"

Still she didn't look to the front. Still her gaze remained fixed on Chuck's empty chair. Every minute he didn't show pushed her anger that little bit further, a white hot well inside of her. "It's his father's memorial, isn't it?" Her tone was blank. Like she had the answers - like she was somehow accountable for whatever Carter did or didn't do. (Like she'd ever had any control over any of Carter's actions).

"Blair," Eleanor started again, furious - but the music started playing and, mercifully, cut her off. Ten minutes. Chuck was ten minutes late. They were all looking, all whispering. How could Chuck have done this to her? They weren't supposed to leave each other uninformed. They weren't supposed to leave each other defenceless and in the dark.

The sound of heels - larger and louder than Blair's - filled the hall in the music's gap. The heads finally turned in a different direction; Serena was sailing down the aisle to where her mother sat. Her dress was a heady, brilliant pink and far too short. Her legs were bare and her golden hair was a glorious untamed mess. She was inappropriate and wild and wrong and beautiful and everyone was looking at her. Judging her. Her blue eyes rested on Blair's as she dropped into the seat, crossing her legs with ease. _Your fault, _they said. All the judgement and the stares and the rumours. And then she tossed her mane behind her like she could care less - and her gaze, like everyone else's, moved to the front.

Except Serena didn't look surprised.

Chuck's chair was still empty. She'd _told_ him. She'd told him as soon as she'd found out Serena was back - he'd been the first person, the only person she'd thought to tell. The only person she'd needed to tell. They didn't _not _tell each other things. Not about other people. And now, now he was even later than Serena was. He was obviously planning on missing the entire service - but still, she knew he'd show up.

Eleanor was leaning across to whisper to Bart now. Blair caught phrases like _cheek of it_ and _completely inconsiderate. _Bart's raised brow seemed faintly unimpressed too - though, to be fair, that was his usual expression. She doubted he cared much for petty gossip anyway; his thoughts were more likely occupied with the inheritance of the Baizen legacy.

They all stood as the founding nember of the charity rose to the podium to give his speech.

Edward Baizen had been a good man. A good husband, a good father - everyone strained so hard to get a look at the front row, at that, that Blair could almost hear their necks crick - and an upstanding member of the community. He would be sorely missed by friends and family alike. (As would his large yearly donations to the charity).

The service dragged on, and Blair kept herself occupied with thoughts of Chuck's pain. With anger. With disgust for the woman in front's hideous feathery hat. Chuck would've caught her eye and smirked with her too - and she hated him for it.

He was probably sitting in the Palace bar now, drinking. She could picture the curve of his spine, his profile on the bar stool, his white knuckles around the glass. The movement of his throat as he swallowed. He'd be drinking slowly, bitterly, letting it burn his mouth and looking at nothing. She'd used to slide onto the barstool when he was like that - when they were both pissed off or upset and she had nowhere else to go, even before they started sleeping together and everything got so hopelessly tangled - and his gaze would slide onto her, just for a moment. And then he'd be looking at something. Neither of them would ever need to say anything. He'd order her a drink - a Shirley Temple that eventually became a martini - with a single wave of his hand, and she'd drink it in the time that he slowly knocked back three scotches. Their thighs would brush, separated by her prim skirts and his expensive pants; and they'd say nothing. Nothing until they started to devise the takedown of whoever it was that had crossed them. Whoever it was that had got them into that state in the first place.

Why hadn't he told her? Why hadn't he _told _her Carter was back? If she'd known then she might have been able to avoid this whole event; if she'd known then she could be sitting with him at the bar right now, and this time her hand would be on his thigh and she'd end up back in his room instead of in a towncar home at the end of it.

If he'd _told _her -

"Please stand for the final hymn."

The dread had well and truly settled in her stomach as the familiar chords drowned out everything else. The end of the service meant the reception, and the reception meant that they would have to leave the safety of the neat rows of chairs, to mingle and talk and _see. _She would see him, he would see her - and everyone, everyone would see _them. _

She could already feel Eleanor stiffening at her side, reaching for her bag ready to march straight up to the Baizens and show exactly how little either of them cared that a certain person had returned. Ready to show Carter Baizen exactly what he was missing. Blair suddenly wished she'd eaten breakfast just so that she could throw it up. She hated her mother sometimes. She really did.

She kept her eyes trained straight ahead and feigned obliviousness to Eleanor's pointed digs as the song finally came to its end. She bent, slowly, to pick up her own bag as everyone started to file out of the rows. If she could just drag the time out for as long as possible, keep as busy as possible -

"Blair."

And just like that, all of her attempts were swept aside. Useless. The heads turned as everyone pretended not to stare and Blair was finally, finally forced to look at the same thing they all were. Because Carter was standing at the end of her row, blocking her in, one hand held out.

* * *

Blair was six years old when she'd decided that she didn't care for Carter Baizen. She'd first seen him sitting smugly between his two parents, and he'd winked at her across the room.

Chuck had warned her about him beforehand. "He lifted up Georgie's skirt and then told her mom she was lying. And her mom believed him." There had been glee in Chuck's voice because they both hated Georgie. Blair had experienced a nasty stirring of envy, because who was this Carter Baizen to command Chuck's respect and do what they'd spent so long trying to accomplish themselves? And Carter was a _boy _and secretly she'd never liked it when Chuck played with boys because it meant she couldn't join in. It wasn't proper - whatever Serena said.

She'd feigned disdain and told Chuck that Carter sounded awful. She'd been taken aback to see him sitting so perfectly. Taken aback, but not fooled. Her parents had commented on his style and manners and the impressive way he seemed to command all the other little guys – he was smart, Eleanor had said. A real heart-breaker, Harold had agreed; Blair had wrinkled her nose. She was sure a broken heart wasn't a good thing. Carter Baizen was best kept away from.

He'd been sent to boarding school at eight and returned to Manhattan at twelve. It had been the last day of Constance, just before the summer vacation, when she'd set eyes on him again. There had been plenty of stories from boarding school - all of which she'd ignored. She'd had more important things to concern herself with anyway. But that day had been sweltering hot, her uniform sticking to her and the sunlight stinging her eyes. Serena had insisted they get ice creams before their drivers came to pick them up. Blair wasn't allowed to eat food from the street. Eleanor had been very clear on that. She was sure Serena shouldn't eat it either – but when did Serena ever listen to _shouldn't? _She'd skipped off and left Blair clutching both their satchels by the school gates. And Blair knew she'd bring back two ice creams, and knew that she'd have to tell her no over and over again. Serena was too hard to say no to. That was the problem.

She'd been focusing on her polished patent shoes as she'd practiced the word in her head. _No, _Serena. No ice cream. You didn't know where it had been. The seller had probably spat in it. It was disgusting.

"Well, _you_ look like you're concentrating way too hard for the end of school."

The voice had been low and amused – and Blair's gaze had snapped up, startled by the figure leaning against the railings. She hadn't seen him. But he'd clearly seen her. She'd taken in the expensive shirt, the slacks, the lazy elegance and a head cocked to once side, deep blue eyes. Hooded. He'd smirked down at her. That was when she'd realised exactly who he was. He'd been so much taller than she remembered – almost seemed to tower over her, even slouched against the iron bars – his voice deeper, his jaw more clearly defined and his shoulders broader. Chuck was eleven and he'd only been a couple of inches taller than her. Nate was positively baby-faced in comparison.

Blair had suddenly felt very young. So she'd stuck her chin out and folded her arms. "This is the girls' school. You shouldn't be here."

Carter had glanced at her and she'd felt instinctively like he was sizing her up. His mouth had curved. Entertained but not quite a smile. "I'm outside the gates, aren't I?" He'd tilted a lazy eyebrow. "And so are you. I thought Constance didn't finish till quarter past three – you're not playing hooky, are you?"

"Our class was let out early," she corrected – Blair Waldorf did _not _play hooky.

Carter's mouth had stayed curved, blue eyes moving over her again. She'd raised her head and turned away.

He might have opened his mouth to say something else – or perhaps he was just mocking her – but Serena had returned at that moment. Blair had just been starting to get used to boys who ignored her whenever she was with Serena. Serena who'd already had her first period and was the first in their class to wear a _bra_. Carter had given her the once-over too, an even wider smirk. "Serena van der Woodsen."

Serena had dimpled back at him. "You know my name?"

"I've heard enough about you," Carter drawled.

She'd just laughed and tossed her hair. Blair had tried very hard not to roll her eyes, to ignore the sudden sour taste in her mouth. What did she care about Carter Baizen, anyway? Serena was welcome to him.

Serena had turned back to her best friend then, thrusting one of the dripping cones in her direction. "I almost forgot," she grinned. "Cheers, B!"

Blair didn't _want _it. Vanilla ice cream was dribbling down the wafer, too sticky. Serena's tongue had already darted out, teeth flashing white as she raised to her own lips, smearing her mouth. Sexy. Blair had heard the word, but she hadn't known what it had meant until then.

"I'm not hungry." Her voice had sounded stiff.

Serena had just laughed, waving the treat closer to her. "Come on," she'd wheedled.

Blair had felt her stomach turning. She didn't want it. She didn't want Serena to convince her to eat it. She didn't want the guilt afterwards. She didn't _want_ it -

And then Carter had idly plucked it from Serena's hand and taken a slow, satisfied lick. His blue eyes had rested on Blair for a moment – and then Serena had pulled the attention back to her without noticing, laughing and squealing and slapping Carter's arm. "That was Blair's!"

Carter had just smirked.

"He's dreamy," Serena had sighed afterwards. "Delicious." She'd given her best friend a sideways, delighted look. They'd been sitting side by side in the car – Carter had long sauntered off. "And I think he likes you, B."

"No he doesn't." Blair's scoff had been immediate.

Serena had laughed again. "Carter and Blair-"

"Oh, grow up."

"You're blushing!"

"You're _deluded_."

She didn't care for Carter Baizen. She didn't care about Carter Baizen. She'd known it the whole way home. He wasn't delicious or dreamy or charming in the _slightest._

"Have you heard Carter Baizen's back?"

Blair's scowl at Chuck had been instant. "So?"

Chuck had given her a funny look, a tilt of the black eyes she knew so well. "So things are interesting when Baizen's around."

"And boring when he's not?" It had been a snide mutter.

He'd given her another quick look, gaze still slanted. "As long as you're here, Waldorf?" She'd glanced back at him. "No."

She'd hidden a grin.

The next time Blair had seen Carter Baizen was at William Van der Bilt's seventieth birthday party. They'd all been at the the Van der Bilt compound, Serena giggling with Tripp, and Chuck and Nate raiding the single malt. Or rather, Chuck raiding and Nate watching helplessly. Blair had refused to have any part in the crime. And she hadn't wanted to stand next to her best friend and be ignored by gross Tripp. So she'd been stuck with her mother and a very dull Anne Archibald. She hadn't noticed Carter – again – until it was too late. But suddenly her mother had been raising a brow, smiling, and Blair been looking up into that cool gaze. He'd been so flawless in his tuxedo. His mouth had twisted again as his hand had enfolded hers. "Blair." His lips had brushed her fingers. "Can I get you a drink?" He'd winked at her mother. "Sparkling elderflower, obviously."

Eleanor had waved them off.

Carter had drawn her away and she'd been aware of girls shooting her envious glances. Older girls. She'd ignored them, unsure of whether to scowl or smirk.

"You're welcome," Carter had murmured in her ear as he'd handed her a glass. That arrogant smile had still been playing at the corners of his mouth.

She'd taken a sip of the sparkling liquid, appraising him narrowly. "For what? Dragging me to the corner of the room?"

His lips had twitched, so effortless and so amused. "I'm sorry, should I return you to mother dearest?"

Her fingers had tightened round the stem of the glass. There had been a moment of silence while Carter appraised her easily. "You haven't changed," she said at last, cool. "You're not fooling me and you're not fooling anyone else."

He'd continued to watch her - and she'd been unable to read the expression in his eyes. Annoyance or more entertainment, she didn't _want_ to know. Then he'd caught her off guard by smiling. "I'm sure you don't let anyone fool _you." _He was so patronising, she was sure, that she'd wanted to impale his foot with her shoe. He'd thrown her completely in the next second by holding out his hand. "Care to dance?"

He'd swept her to the floor before she had time to refuse. The girls had watched them with even more jealousy, and even some of the parents had smiled in their direction. There was a band playing, of course, but no one else was dancing. Blair had tried wriggle free, but there'd been too many adults watching by that point. So she'd had to smile and let Carter guide her through the steps. And she hadn't been able to deny that he was a good dancer. Only Chuck had ever been able to keep up with her that well. To lead her. But Carter was taller than Chuck, and he smelled of cologne rather than Chuck's familiar scent. Blair was only level with Carter's shoulder and had to tilt her head to look at him. He'd smirked down at her, eyes gleaming in the light. His feet had glided across the parapet, and his arm had been firm around her waist, her hand in his.

Her thoughts had been one frustrating muddle when they'd finally stopped – she wanted to be repulsed, but Carter was such a good dancer and there were too many people looking. He'd kissed her hand again. "Thank you, beautiful."

She'd snapped out of it at the feel of his lips, his drawl – and then she'd become aware of another pair of eyes on her. On them. She'd turned to see Chuck staring. Their gazes had met – and then he'd arched a brow and looked away. Serena had dashed over afterwards to squeal about what a sight they'd made, Tripp forgotten. Even Nate had been impressed. Chuck had stuck to his drink and said nothing.

At the end of the night, when Nate was with his father and Serena had gone back to Tripp – when it was just the two of them, and he still wasn't talking - she'd finally had enough and sneered that his ignoring her was pathetic.

"And that little spectacle with Carter Baizen wasn't? Here I thought you couldn't stand him." Chuck's voice had been perfectly flat.

"You're the one," it had finally spilled out of her, hot, "Who thinks he's something special just because he knows how to smoke a cigar. You're the one who acts like you're his best friend."

"And what are you, his girlfriend? You know he's only using you because his parents want to do business with yours."

"I'm not _stupid."_

"No," he'd snapped back. "You're not."

She'd wrapped her arms round herself tightly. "Maybe I'm using him too." She'd enjoyed the looks of envy and admiration, and all of it could work to her advantage.

"You don't need him." Chuck's tone had been brusque.

"Neither do you."

They'd both looked at each other for a moment. Chuck had been the first to break the connection. "Use him, then."

(It wasn't what she'd wanted him to say). "I will." Her jaw had set.

Chuck's eyes had burned a hole in his glass as she'd stalked off.

Winter formal had been a big deal. Of course. Blair had just had her twelfth birthday – a date was a necessity. And getting that date before Serena got one was even more important. She'd heard that Carter didn't bother going to kids' stuff like that. But he'd showed up at her party only last week. He'd danced with her. And he'd given her a present – a ruby ring that thrown her completely because she'd _loved _it. She hadn't wanted to. She hadn't wanted to him to know what she loved. He'd just smirked and told her guys were supposed to get their girlfriends jewellery. (So she hoped they were meant to take them to formals too).

He'd been waiting for her outside the school gates, snow in his hair, and asked her in front of Kati and Iz and Penelope. Marcella Coombes from the year above had been watching too, green to the gills.

"You told me you didn't like dances," Marcella had sniffed in his direction.

"Maybe I just don't like them with you," had come his bored response. He'd told Blair he'd pick her up on the night, and Kati and Iz had just about died. Blair had tried to ignore the way the snow had been melting in his hair. She'd told Chuck she was using him, and using him she was. He was only using her anyway.

At the formal she'd been perfection in a white dress, hair curled, and Carter had cut an equally dashing figure in his tux. Blair had told herself it was just the tux she liked, the handsome couple they made, as he'd twirled her across the dance floor. Nate and Chuck had been leaning against the wall by the punch bowl while Serena spun in the centre of the floor. She hadn't had a date at all. (Blair suspected too many boys had asked her in the end). Blair hadn't let herself look at Chuck while she and Carter swayed to Frank Sinatra.

"So." He'd leaned down into her at the slowest part of the song, still holding her. His lips had been suddenly seconds from hers. "I've done everything you needed me to these past few months. Is it about time for a reward? Because I'll take a kiss."

She'd been so stunned for a moment that she could only stare. Carter had known, the whole time, that she was using him. Of course he'd known. She finally mustered a glower and shoved him off. "I'm going to get a drink." She'd spun away from him. Luckily the song had been coming to an end anyway.

But when she'd got to the punch bowl, the first sight she'd been met with was Chuck with his tongue down Marcella Coombe's throat. It had looked like they were eating each other's faces. Blair had felt sudden bile rushing to her throat. Marcella? Seriously? And why hadn't a teacher or chaperone come to stop them? Chuck's hands had been on the girl's waist. Blair didn't know why she wanted to throw up quite so badly. Nate and Serena were twisting somewhere on the dance floor together. And Chuck was _kissing _Marcella Coombes.

She hadn't noticed that Carter had slid up behind her until he'd pushed a cup of punch into her hands.

He'd followed her gaze with an angled head. "My dirty leftovers? Classy." Blair had wrenched her eyes away. Carter seemed to notice how ill she looked. "Don't worry," he'd said in her ear. "I'm much better than he is."

Blair had turned to retort, furious, before she'd seen the slight twitch to his lips.

"I want to leave," she'd muttered instead. "I have a headache."

She'd almost been surprised when Carter had followed. The night air had been cold outside, waiting for the car, and he'd slipped his jacket over her shoulders.

"Ok," she'd told him. "You can drop the gentleman act here."

"Maybe I _am_ a gentleman," Carter had answered musingly. "And everything else is an act." He'd been met with a glare, of course. He'd laughed. "My girl is star-shine on a summer night," he'd murmured into the wintry air - the song they'd just been dancing to.

Blair had ignored the starless sky. "I'm not your girl."

He'd been unfazed as ever. "You were more than happy to be my girl when I gave you that ring." His gaze had rested, smug, on the ruby that she still wore.

She'd glowered and started to tug it off. "Then you can have it back." Even if she really _didn't _want to part with it.

He'd laughed and caught her hands, stopping her. "It was a gift."

So she'd just crossed her arms to get them out of his hold. And truthfully, she'd been grateful for his jacket. (Which had smelt of his cologne). "Well. It's not like you_'_d be doing any of this," she'd challenged at last, "If your parents didn't want you to."

He'd cocked his head at her. "My mother's hardly subtle at dropping hints," he responded wryly. "And I did ask you to dance at the Van der Bilts' to get her off my back. And because you looked so painfully bored." His smirk had been met with her glower. "But...despite all your best efforts, I do actually like you."

She'd been frozen in those blue eyes. Just for a split second. "Wow," she'd scoffed eventually. "You sure know how to compliment a girl."

He'd ignored her to slant his head a little closer. Sizing her up again. "And I think you like me too." So much indolent confidence, such an idle curve to that mouth with his hands shoved in his pockets, watching her.

She'd torn her eyes away. "I do not." This time the scoff had caught in her throat.

He'd caught her chin, tilting her face up to him. "Really?"

She'd blinked rapidly. "We just...serve each other well."

He'd still had her caught. "You'd make a good poker player," he'd drawled, soft. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone." He'd been smiling as he released her, and she hadn't quite been able to keep back her own highly reluctant half-smile, despite everything. Despite all her best efforts.

He'd seen her home that night.

And two weeks later, she'd kissed him for the first time. The Baizens had come over for Christmas and she'd realised that she'd actually enjoyed herself. But then Christmas _had _been her favourite time of year. Christmas Eve most of all. That Christmas Eve Carter had gone ice-skating with her, pulled her dangerously fast in his strong gloved hands and tucked her hair behind her ear. They'd been by the fire in the Waldorf living room, and she'd been warm from the spiced wine she'd been allowed to try, their parents at a party and Dorota with family in Queens. The room had smelt of pine and candy cane and rich cloves. It had been late, almost midnight, but she hadn't wanted to move.

"I should go to bed."

Carter had glanced at her. "You haven't opened your present."

She'd frowned. "It's not Christmas day yet."

He'd leaned into her, cologne mixing with the smell of Christmas. "So?"

It had been a tiny red and green wrapped box that he'd slid into her hands. The shiny paper had fallen, almost hesitantly, to the floor. Ruby earrings to match the ring. Small and beautiful and perfect.

Her cheeks had been glowing as she'd slid them into her ears, as the clock had finally chimed twelve. She'd gazed over at him, at those blue eyes and his sleek brown hair and the little twist of his lips. "Merry Christmas," she'd murmured. She'd reached for something, shifted in her seat. "I can give you your present now."

The mistletoe had pricked her hand as she'd held it out to him. She'd surprised him – surprised herself too.

Her eyes had fluttered closed. His lips had been strange on hers – strange, but not unpleasant – his mouth warm with the taste of alcohol and cinnamon from the wine. And she'd finally let herself melt in to him, remembering the way that snow had melted in his hair and feeling her heart beat in her chest as he kissed her back.

Blair was seventeen years old when she'd decided she no longer cared for Christmas. And she _hated_ Christmas Eve.

* * *

It was that same hooded, confident gaze that held hers now. That pinned her in place. It was the same people, all waiting and watching with baited breath. And she had the same sense of all the control slipping out of her grasp as she forced herself to take Carter's hand, to smile and shake it like nothing had happened and nothing was bothering her.

Like he was an old accquaintance and not the boy that had overturned her entire future with one careless train journey out of New York.

"How have you been?" he murmured. It was as though he wasn't even aware of anyone else - but she knew he was. He just didn't care. Carter had never cared. That same arrogance, the same swagger and clean cut cheeks that had been the centre of all her daydreams for so long. Like he was ready to sweep her off her feet at any moment - and to drop her, she remembered, just as fast.

Her reply was of the utmost politeness. "Very well, thank you."

She could've sworn he looked amused with that answer. Just like always. Because no matter what she'd done, she'd always seemed to amuse him. And something snapped inside of her. No. No more. She was not a _joke, _or some game or toy he could toss aside when he was bored. She was Blair Waldorf.

"I'm very sorry for you loss," she told him coolly, graciously. She removed her hand from his. And it was then, as her gaze shifted, that her eyes landed on the figure behind him. Chuck. Chuck had just come in through the doors; he stood, motionless, staring at them. There was something shadowed in his gold eyes. Blair gave him a single look - his face was pale and her eyes were icy with anger. Reproach. They burned in to him and he was almost glad.

Carter turned, following her gaze, and saw something he didn't understand. But she was already brushing past him and away from all of them - and she didn't glance back.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you very much for all your reviews, I can't tell you how relieved I am that there's still interest in this fic! I hope there wasn't too much Carter/Blair in this chapter...personally, if it wasn't for Chair then I would totally ship them. And just as a note of warning - I am going to make more of a triangle than I have in any of my other stories. Purely because I love Carter so much that I think he actually could be a rival for Blair's affections - and there are so many similarites between him and Chuck that I don't see how Blair couldn't be attracted to him. But obviously I know my endgame, and there's only one person that Blair is truly in love with...**

**Also, more will be explained on the Chuck/Serena front - ****but just in response to one comment I got, let me assure you that I would have a hard time portraying either of them as romantically interested in each other.**

**Thanks again!**


	7. Chapter 7

The service was followed by a lavish buffet in the next room, but Chuck was oblivious to the flowing fountains of champagne and exquisitely prepared seafood. He'd already set his sights on the only thing he actually wanted, and he'd caught hold of her arm and whisked her out of the hall before she could react otherwise. And then it was just the two of them in one small space, out of hearing and out of sight, his face inches from hers.

She jerked instantly out of his hold. "What do you think you're doing?" Her eyes blazed as she regarded him.

He ignored her. "Where were you last night?" It came out too raw, too desperate - so he forced a wall back up. Made his voice cold. "You never came home."

She laughed at that, short and angry. "I'm sorry, are we telling each other things now?"

Chuck ground his teeth together. "Blair-"

"You knew." She just stared at him. "You knew he was back."

(Was that really why she was so angry, he wondered? Was that all of it?) "He wasn't supposed to still be here," he finally snapped. "I assumed he'd just run away again-"

"So you didn't think you'd ever have to tell me? You thought - what? That I just wouldn't find out?" Just like Carter had never bothered to tell her he no longer wanted her or their life together? "Because clueless Blair is _always _the last person to ever be told _anything-_"

He grabbed her wrist, and his voice was abruptly very harsh. "I'm _not_ him."

The heat of his fingers scalded her - or the sudden intensity in his eyes, perhaps. She found her voice stuck for a moment. (Because she knew damn well who Chuck was, and that was the point. Because the thought of _Chuck _doing that-)

"Do you have any idea," she hissed at last, "How _humiliating_ it is, to turn up at his father's memorial-"

"I told you I didn't know he was going to be here."

Her eyes slanted at him, dangerously. "Yes you did. Or you wouldn't have shown up so late." She moved a fraction closer, and he released her wrist. "Or you wouldn't have shown up at all." She saw the truth darken in his gaze - but she refused to let him look away. "You knew."

Yes. Yes, he'd known. But he hadn't known when he'd decided not to tell her at the start of the weekend. He hadn't known last night, when he'd been sitting in her penthouse waiting for her to come home. When he'd been so sure that his little lie of ommission would no longer even matter, because Carter was long gone anyway. And then one hour had stretched into two, and he'd started to feel uneasy. He'd finally gone to the Palace in the hope that she'd show up there to punish him. But instead of Blair waiting for him, there had been a message from Andrew Tyler. Carter never got on the plane. Concierge had then informed him Blair had, indeed, come to the Palace - and left with a young man from the bar. And Carter never got on the plane.

Blair was pissed at him, Carter was still in New York, Blair still wasn't home - the thoughts had repeated, over and over, as he'd ordered his first scotch. He'd wanted to tear down the whole of Manhattan till he found her, and he was too scared of what he'd find to even try.

And now she was so close that he could finally breathe her in, and she was still glaring up at him. He'd missed that glare. "I'm sorry." He lowered his head even closer, so that the words were a murmur in her ear.

And he felt her surprise. Chuck Bass didn't _apologise. _She tried to look at him properly. "What-"

His nose brushed her cheek, his lips finding her jaw. "I'm not saying it again." Her skin was soft under the heat of his mouth; he sensed her breath catch, despite herself. Her fingers curled uselessly on his shoulder.

"Chuck-"

He pulled her flush against him to kiss her fully, and this time his fingers tangled in her hair as his lips sought hers. He tasted of last night and this morning's scotch, and as she bit down on his lip, she pressed the unbearable tension that had been wound up inside her against the hard, familiar contours of his body; and she finally felt some of it snap free. She closed her eyes.

"I'm still mad."

But he _wanted_ her anger. (Wanted anything from her - her hatred, any kind of heat. _He _wanted it. On _him_). "Mm." He kissed her again. And their foreheads stayed pressed together as his heart thumped against hers, lips fused like she was the only source of oxygen in the room.

They broke apart in the end - but she took hold of his lapels to hold him in place, fingers tight. "I was looking after your drunk best friend last night, incidentally. And I mean it." Her gaze was narrowed up at him. "Don't ever do that to me again."

(Don't lie? Don't disappear?)

He didn't care, because the strength of her grip, her nails digging into the material of his jacket - it filled him relief and a sudden desparate need. _Let's get out of here. Leave now. _Go back to his suite or her room or anywhere where it was just the two of them. But she'd already released him, was already stepping away to smooth down her hair and head back inside.

So he clenched his jaw and followed her.

* * *

Carter had expected that coming back would be a lot of things, but he'd forgotten boring. Or maybe he just hadn't expected the boredom to sink in quite as quickly. His mother had looked at him like she didn't know who he was when he'd first appeared. (But then, when had she ever known who he was?) All it had taken was an apology, a show of manners, his place at her side as a dutiful son - and he was accepted, just like that. Because Victoria _needed _someone to hold her hand now that Edward was gone.

And Carter had realised as he'd sat at the front of that packed hall, staring at the huge photgraph of his father, that he didn't want to be that person. He'd always known he never wanted to be that person. To have someone _depend _on him -

He wanted to tell his mother to stop being so pathetic. To tell her he knew she wasn't this weak; his father had just let her be for too long. He'd wanted to feel sad that Edward was gone, not bored at the length of the service. He'd ended up scanning the faces of the gathered people in search of anything remotely interesting - and that was when he'd seen her. That was when he'd finally stopped feeling the weight of boredom, and another feeling had crushed him instead. Dread. Blair Waldorf, sitting pure and perfect as ever, with her mother - looking anywhere but at him. Her gaze had been fixed on nothing, as far as Carter could tell. An empty chair.

Sitting so still, so pale and so flawless next to Eleanor - it was like she hadn't changed at all. She was the same Blair Waldorf he'd known three years ago, right down to the tight purse of her lips. He wondered if the Blair Waldorf then could have guessed that in just three years she'd be sitting at his father's memorial service, not even speaking to him.

Had she seen him? She must have done.

He'd headed straight for her the moment the godawful service had ended, with no real idea of what he was going to say. Sorry? For a moment, as he'd held out his hand, he'd been sure she wouldn't take it. But of course good manners had won in the end. He didn't know what else he'd been expecting, really. Of course she'd taken his hand - everyone was watching. The coldness in her eyes had thrown him, even though it really shouldn't have done. It wasn't like he'd never seen that icy look before. Hell, he'd seen it plenty of times. Just not aimed at him. Not for a long, long time. He'd forgotten, he realised, what it was like to be on the receiving end of Blair Waldorf's disdain.

And now he was standing in the damn banquet hall wishing he could be anywhere else. Blair was nowhere to be seen - but he could see Serena all right. At the bar, flirting shamelessly with the guy that kept refilling her glass. And he knew Serena could see him. Knew she was watching. He should have been relieved that Blair and Serena weren't in the same room, but he couldn't help wondering where she was. She never missed events. She wouldn't have gone home, surely? He still had no idea what he wanted to say to her. Or what he hoped to gain, exactly. He'd messed with Blair Waldorf's plan. He'd abandonned her. He would be dead to her now and he knew it.

(But still he couldn't quite let go of the memory of her hand in his, or the way her eyes had used to shine when she'd looked at him. It wasn't the desperate way his mother now clung to him, or the way girls in the past had fawned over him. Because when Blair Waldorf loved you...there was nothing, he knew. Nothing fiercer than that. Except for when Blair Waldorf hated you).

He didn't know why he wanted to see her. He didn't want to. The thought of seeing her was unsettling. It would achieve nothing. He'd walked out on her, and it was too late to apologise, and she wouldn't listen anyway. Carter Baizen didn't apologise. Hadn't he made his choice? Fuck them all, he'd said on the plane. In Thailand, in Singapore. God, fuck all of them and their boring little lives.

(_I love you, Carter_).

He didn't want Blair Waldorf's love, didn't want to be a part of her perfect life, didn't want her smile when he took her by surprise or her headbands or the dark softness of her curls. He'd thrown it all away, and he wasn't stupid enough to think for a second that she'd let him have it back. That part of his life was over. He didn't want -

He saw Serena's gaze flicker to the doorway. Saw her toss her hair, laugh loudly.

Blair.

He turned, but she was already wrapped in conversation with his _mother. _An unpleasant memory flickered at the back of his mind - Blair and Victoria and a family engagement ring, a perfect wedding - but he pushed it away with a mouthful of scotch.

Blair looked good.

There was no denying it.

She'd seemed too pale and tense in the other hall - but there was something more relaxed about her features now, and it was only now that Carter started to wonder if she _had _changed. She appeared somehow more grown up than the girl that had squeezed his hand and squealed over pumpkin pie, though Carter couldn't figure out how. _Something_ had changed about her.

Was it the dress? The absence of a headband?

The truth was that in all the years Carter had been going steady with Blair Waldorf, he'd been so focused on her refusal to even let him put his tongue in her mouth that he'd - what? Stopped thinking she was attractive?

No.

He'd always _wanted_ her. But it had become a goal and a challenge instead of the simple pleasure of, well, fucking. Triumph when he'd been able to rest his hand on her thigh and she hadn't wriggled away with an anxious glance round the room. Not that Carter didn't enjoy a challenge - but in all the years he'd been with her, everything had been done with the objective of getting something. A present in exchange for a kiss. An appearance at a party in exchange for a smile. Everything he'd done with her had always been about keeping the balance - unsettling her enough to win her over and get his own way, but keeping her stable enough to keep her happy. It didn't matter how prickly or difficult she got - he always knew exactly what to say, what to do; how to make her smile and how to calm her down. How to piss her off, too, but it wasn't like that worked in his favour.

It had been a currency and an exchange they were both used to. And it had all been working towards something. He'd known that Blair would eventually sleep with him, known he'd eventually be rewarded with more than a chaste kiss on his cheek. (Though with all the women he'd slept with since, the idea of hand-holding and snuggling was so repulsive, so tedious, that he wondered how he'd ever done it with Blair.)

But now all of that was gone. And it was too strange to look at Blair and think that she wasn't his reward or his future; she wasn't _his_ anything. She was just...a girl. An admittedly beautiful girl.

He was admiring the curve of her neck (he'd never even got to kiss her there) when he felt the eyes on him. He'd ignored Chuck's presence at her side - Chuck was always at her side, if Nate wasn't there, or at least lurking in the shadows - but now he realised that the guy was watching him, gaze narrowed.

Carter cocked an eyebrow back. No doubt Bass was pissed all that money had gone to waste. The thought made him smirk; he would've given anything to have been there when Chuck realised Carter hadn't actually left. Well, there was no time like the present to rub it in his face.

(Not to mention it placed him closer to a certain brunette).

"You look pleased to see me, Bass," he drawled as he approached. "Do you like my suit? You should," he went on, mouth curving. "You paid for it."

Chuck spared him a glance. "All that money and you couldn't find a decent tailor?"

"I've been away," Carter sighed. "What's your excuse?"

The other man regarded him with ill-disguised distaste. But, Carter realised, Chuck wasn't really paying attention to him. His focus was otherwise engaged - and Carter only realised because his was too.

On Blair.

Blair who was still talking to Victoria and quite pointedly ignoring both of them. Or at least, Carter had thought it was both of them. But then Chuck moved away without even bothering to excuse himself and caught her elbow - and murmured something in her ear, to which she actually responded. She _smiled_. And not her wide, fake smile either; a real one, small and secret. And then both of them were heading across the room, and Blair didn't turn once to look at Carter.

They were talking to some businessman when Carter next saw them.

So.

Chuck was marking his territory, just like he'd done with Nate. He obviously wanted Carter away from all his _friends_ - but Carter could give a shit that Chuck and Blair used to play together in kindergarten and sometimes got wrapped up in each other's schemes. Chuck could pretend to be Carter in every other aspect - with the guys, with his parties - but he'd never get there with Blair. Hell, it wasn't like Blair would ever be his in the same way she'd been Carter's_. _

But for some reason the idea that Chuck even thought he _could_ steal her too irked Carter far more than everything else he'd taken in Carter's absence.

He scoffed, anyway, at the other guy's delusion, and took another swallow of scotch. Serena smiled coolly and raised her glass to him from across the room; he pulled a face and turned away. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Blair should have known her sense of confidence was too good to last. She'd managed to talk to Victoria without looking at Carter once - managed to beat all of the stares and show them all just how unaffected she was by the whole thing. Poised, cool, collected. Everything a Waldorf needed to be - her mother would have been proud. Although fortunately Eleanor been forced to leave due to some emergency at the atelier.

And all it took was one person to take it all away.

One blonde bombshell.

Blair froze midway through her conversation with the mayor's wife as that familiar voice sailed past her ears; as always, as all the attention left her and focused on the girl now towering over her.

Serena's smile was glowing. "B. I didn't realise you'd be here." Glowing and perfectly patronising. "I thought it would be a little difficult for you, actually, given that Carter's back..."

Subtlety had never been Serena's strong point.

"Actually," Blair started, teeth almost gritted -

"But I guess you have Chuck," Serena carried on as though she hadn't spoken. Her gaze swivelled to Chuck, standing at Blair's side. "Don't you?"

Chuck just rolled his eyes.

"Have you seen the new exhibition at the Guggenheim?" Blair addressed her question to the mayor's wife and ignored her best friend.

To no avail. "Chuck used to be my fiance, you know," Serena announced. "We were actually going to get married." Blair froze - she wouldn't. Serena looked at her with calm triumph. She would, Blair realised. It wasn't like she had a reputation to lose now anyway; she'd burned all her bridges thanks to Blair.

Blair was the only one, now, with any reputation to destroy. "I'm sure we don't need to hear-" she attempted, desperately.

"But I guess Blair has him all to herself now. Don't you, B?" Serena's expression was pure Rhodes, all empathy removed. "Isn't it convenient how that worked out?"

The mayor's wife was starting to look decidedly uncomfortable.

"Serena," Chuck purred. His eyes were slanted. "You know, I don't think we've caught up since you got back." He smiled at the mayor's wife, though his expression left little room for argument. "Excuse us." He was already directing the blonde to the opposite side of the room.

She sent Blair one last cold look before she flipped her hair over her shoulder followed him, and Blair glared icily back as she willed the feeling of nausea to subside. (And the urge to follow them, too, to somehow get between her and Chuck even though she knew Chuck was perfectly capable of looking after himself and it wasn't Chuck that Serena wanted to hurt anyway).

Unfortunately she didn't have long before the nausea returned.

"Blair."

Carter had been waiting for her irritating guard dog to disappear; but Bass was finally gone, Serena was out of the way, and the opportunity was too good to miss. He finally had her to himself.

"Can we talk?"

She was gracious to a fault, though her eyes couldn't have said _no _any more clearly. "What is it?"

Carter motioned the door with his head. "Outside." He stood back to let her go first - charming and arrogant as ever, because of course he assumed that she'd just do what he wanted. And of course she found herself going, even though it was the last thing in the world that _she_ wanted.

But she reminded herself that if she refused, then it would look like weakness on her part. She needed to get this over with as quickly as possible and find Chuck, anyway.

Carter smiled and followed her out. Finally.

* * *

"So now Blair's using you to fight all her battles?" Serena accused as she picked up another glass of champagne.

Chuck's smirk back was pleasant. "Actually, I really did just want to catch up. Have you seen Nate?"

The blonde's bravado wavered almost instantly. She focused on the glass in front of her instead - anywhere but on Chuck and his question. And the thought of - "You're not going to stop me," she insisted. "You can't protect Blair forever."

"I'm fairly sure she doesn't need my protection," Chuck responded drily.

Serena frowned but didn't argue. "So this has nothing to do with you."

"I'd agree," Chuck nodded, "Except that you were the one who just dragged me into it." He arched a brow at her. "I wasn't aware that I broke your heart when our engagement was called off. Or are you trying to tell me you were actually in love with me?"

As he'd expected, she rolled her eyes. "You know I wasn't."

"Then why bring it up?"

She watched him for a moment, and then shook her head. "When I told Blair about it, I knew something was wrong. I knew she wasn't happy. I may not have known you were_ sleeping together_," she pulled a face, "But I knew she cared about you. More than she was willing to admit. So I told her." She glared at Chuck, eyes bright even though the anger wasn't even directed at him. "I told her I'd go against what Lily wanted, ruin all our parents' plans - their stupid business deal - and tell my mom to go to hell. Blair only had to say the word." Chuck could see the hurt in her gaze, but she shook it off. Her face hardened. "And she said nothing. She told me it was all fine - and then two weeks later, I found out she'd told the entire world about me and Tripp. Including Nate. Including my mom."

There was silence for a moment. "Maybe," Chuck said at last, in a very low voice, "You don't know the whole story."

Serena just snorted. "Yes, I do. She wanted you to herself. And instead of telling me, she went behind my back to destroy me. She did exactly what Blair always does." The blonde lifted her chin. "So now I'm going to destroy her." She stared down at Chuck without really seeing him, defiant. "And there's nothing you can do about it."

* * *

Blair folded her arms tight across her chest, aware that she was standing with Carter almost exactly where she'd stood with Chuck almost an hour ago. She wanted that same anger to fortify her, to be able to face him. But instead she found herself feeling oddly hollow.

She looked at Carter and she felt...ill. Humiliated. She felt sick every time she thought of their plans together, every time she looked at that cool gaze and it hit her all over again that she could never really trust it. She could never trust him, and she had for so long. Because it couldn't have been love that she'd seen in those eyes - not when it had been so easy for him to leave. It couldn't ever have been love.

It had all been a lie, and that made her even sicker. Blair Waldorf did not get tricked; no one fooled her. And now everyone knew just how easily Carter Baizen had. Was he still laughing at her, she wondered?

But for once his expression was serious, and that unsettled her even more. "So," he murmured. "How have you been?"

_Why are you asking? _she wanted to scream. _Why did you come back and why are you even talking to me? Why even bother? _"Good," she responded evenly. "Thank you. How were your travels?"

He smile twisted. "You know."

"Not really."

He paused; he hadn't expected the conversation to go like this. He still wasn't sure what he'd expected. A temper tantrum, perhaps, now that they were alone - she'd always loved to yell at him. But they were past that now. He'd gone too far. "Well, nothing beats New York." It came out too bitter, and the cold indifference still hadn't melted from her gaze. "Blair," he paused, realising his tone was the same as the one he'd used to use - when she caught a girl flirting with him, and he raised his eyes in exasperation and waved it away, smirked at her paranoia - except this time she wasn't overreacting. "I'm sorry," he said. He wasn't sure where it had come from.

She regarded him for a few seconds. "I accept your apology." Her voice was brittle and she was already turning away. "Now, if you'll excuse me-"

"Blair, come on." He'd reached for her arm without realising it. "Cut the crap-"

She stilled. "Don't touch me." She spoke very softly, almost distantly. But her eyes were like flint when she finally looked at him. "Don't ever touch me again."

"Blair-"

"I don't want your apology." She just shook her head at him. "I don't want anything from you, Carter."

And then she was gone.

Carter's hand curled into a useless fist, left alone in the corridor. Well, that had gone _great. _

* * *

Chuck caught her as she was heading out the door; she didn't even need to say anything. He'd already motioned for the car to be brought around, and she was already sliding onto the leather seats.

He closed the door behind them as the car pulled away.

And then she was on his lap, hands fisted on his lapels, reaching desperately for his shirt buttons as she lost herself in him. His taste. She needed his heat to drive out the horrible sense of emptiness she'd felt from Carter's touch. She needed Chuck's hands and Chuck's mouth - Chuck's body underneath hers and his voice saying her name.

She needed to forget Carter, forget Serena. Forget the stares.

"Do you want to go home?" Chuck murmured against her lips. He'd caught her, tight. And she needed it - the simple understanding without a word..

She nodded as she buried her face into his neck, closing her eyes to breathe him in. Chuck. She needed Chuck. She needed him to need her as much as she needed him. She heard him give Arthur instructions for the Waldorf penthouse - and she shook her head, still clinging to him. Her fingers grazed his cheek.

"Your suite."

She wanted to go home.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews! I'm glad most people didn't seem to think there was too much Carter/Blair last chapter - and for this one, I tried to balance it out with Chair? :) **


	8. Chapter 8

Nate had started to dread his fortnightly lunches with his grandfather. The dim-oak panelled interior of his favourite restaurant, the questions about Columbia and his future, whether he'd found a nice girl yet, whether he'd spoken to Tripp. But this particular lunch gave him an even nastier surprise - because sitting at the table with William was none other than Tripp himself. If Nate had only worked out what was going on and reacted a little faster, then he would have walked straight out again.

But William had already seen him, was already waving him over. "Nathaniel," he nodded as the blond sat down. "I hope you don't mind that I invited your cousin." It wasn't a question.

Tripp smiled earnestly over at him, fresh-faced and good-looking as he always was in his suit. Almost as perfect as his campaign posters. Nate couldn't even muster a smile back; he glared at the salt shaker instead, brow furrowed. Just the sight of him, still, made Nate feel sick to his stomach. He'd never held a grudge for so long - in fact, he never really developed grudges in the first place - but this went far beyond that. A year ago he would never even have imagined he _could_ hate his cousin.

William van der Bilt signalled the waiter to bring over the usual as he glanced between his two grandons. He didn't bother to acknowledge any hint of tension. "I was just telling Tripp that the two of you should take the yacht out. It's been a while."

Nate ran a hand through his hair as he glanced away. He and Tripp were well past their sailing days now. "Yeah, uh...I'm sort of busy at the moment."

"Summer vacation is just about to start." His grandfather raised a grey brow at him.

Nate cleared his throat and wished in vain that he was a better liar. "You know, but I need to start applying for internships..."

"I think you could use a break." There was no room for argument in William's tone. There never was. "I think you both could."

"It sounds fun," Tripp attempted. He kept trying to meet Nate's gaze - but Nate wouldn't let him, blue eyes fixed firmly on his meal. "We could have a party to celebrate the start of summer. Just like old days."

And at that, Nate finally did give him a look of incredulity. Old days? As in the days before Tripp had embarked on a sordid affair with -

"Excellent idea," William stated.

Nate opened his mouth, desperate, in the hopes that some kind of excuse would come to him. "Grandfather-"

"I'll let the crew know." William nodded for the waiter to bring over his favourite red. "I'm glad you two are speaking again. This family can't afford your petty bickering." It was pointed as the old man returned to his steak. "Tripp. Try the filet." He indicated Nate with his head. "Give him some, Nathaniel."

Surely, Nate wanted to protest, Tripp had already taken enough from him? He shoved his plate in his cousin's direction, muttering that he was done in any case. Tripp smiled again - and again, Nate didn't.

William van der Bilt seemed quite satisfied that he'd put an end to the matter.

* * *

"Oh my God, Blair. That dress is _amazing_."

Kati, Iz and Penelope were all crowded round the brunette as she faced the floor-length mirrors in Saks. They were right. The pale blue cocktail dress was gorgeous - perfectly fitted with its tight sheath design, the lace covering its top and its short shift skirt. It would be perfect for Nate's yacht party.

She allowed herself a smile. "Well-"

"Oh my God. Blair!"

She turned, heart sinking. Serena was standing at the other end of the dressing room, stunning red and black dress thrown over one arm and a pair of Ferragamo heels dangling from the other. She was already fantastically dressed, in a swirling-patterned creation with flared sleeves and ridiculously short skirt that showed an endless stretch of brown legs (seriously, hadn't her tan faded yet?) matching headscarf trailing from her loose golden ponytail and large earrings.

The girls were all staring at her in varying degrees of envy and awe and Blair wanted to yell that they were supposed to be admiring _her _dress.

Penelope was the first to open her mouth. "Serena! We still can't believe you're back." Kati and Iz exchanged looks of agreement. "We _missed_ you."

Serena smiled back. "Aw. I missed you too." Her attention turned to Blair. "That's a really..._sweet_ dress, B." She leaned too hard, too condescendingly on the word. "It's very you."

Blair stiffened.

"What's the occasion?" the blonde asked with a bright laugh. "Is it for a certain someone?" Her gaze was challenging.

Blair forced herself to meet it without flinching - Serena smiled, deliberate.

"It's for the party this weekend," Kati was already burbling. Her expression turned hopeful. "Are you going?" Partially because it was Serena and partially because - well, because of who was throwing the party. The Tripp scandal may have been over a year ago, but all of them were still deeply intrigued.

"Oh, I don't know. I wouldn't want to interrupt anything." Serena tilted her head. "I'm sure Blair has things to do. People to see."

The girls were exchanging glances now, trying to work out what she meant - and secretly gleeful at the prospect of drama between the two Upper East Side queens. Whatever was going on, it seemed juicy. Everything was always juicy where Serena was concerned. This was exactly why they'd missed her so much.

"Girls," Blair snapped. "I need a drink. Go find out where that store clerk is with the perrier." The three of them exchanged glances. "Go!" She rolled her eyes once they'd scurried off.

"So I take it they don't know about you and Chuck either?" Serena enquired.

"There is no me and Chuck."

"Sure." Serena couldn't help her anger - why was she _still_ lying to her? Her gaze skimmed the dress once more. "Are you dressing up for Carter, then?" She knew it was mean.

Blair's lips had pinched, tight, and for a moment Serena was going to apologise. But Blair cut her off before she could even open her mouth. "I'm going to Nate's party, actually." She saw the instant shadow cross the blonde's face at the mention of his name; she kept her voice cold. "So I doubt you're invited."

Serena glared at her for a moment, an odd mixture of hurt and anger shining in her eyes. "Right." She shook her head and spun away.

* * *

Chuck leaned against the railing of the dock as he waited for Nate to get out of the car. He was immaculately dressed in deep blue slacks with a white shirt, pale blue jacket and yellow ascot. His best friend was, as ever, taking his time. Chuck knew he was only trying to put off the inevitable meeting with his cousin. Tripp was already aboard the van der Bilt yacht.

Nate finally stepped out, squinting in the late afternoon sun. "I think it might rain."

Chuck glanced up at the cloudless sky and arched an eyebrow at the blond. "It's not going to rain."

Nate's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I can't do this," he groaned. "I can't get on a boat with him and pretend everything's fine." He shook his head helplessly.

"Just focus on the alcohol your grandfather has so generously provided." Chuck clapped a hand to his best friend's shoulder. "And you never know. He might fall overboard." Nate gave him a look; his smirked. "Accidents happen, Nathaniel."

Nate grinned despite himself.

Chuck, however, stopped grinning as a sleek car pulled up and he saw the figure get out. His good mood evaporated, just like that. What the hell was _he_ doing here?

He turned on Nate. "You invited Carter Baizen?"

The other guy was looking slick as ever in a grey suit without a tie. Of course.

Nate shrugged. "Come on. He's a good guy. He's...fun." Chuck gave him a look of sheer incredulity. "Anyway," Nate went on, slightly defensive. "You said Blair was ok with him. I heard that they were...cordial at that service."

Chuck's lip twisted. "When is Blair ever not cordial?" he asked drily.

Nate opened his mouth to protest - but another car had pulled up, and Chuck's attention was already drawn to the familiar licence plate and the girl getting out of it. He drank her in - the light blue dress that she'd paired with white heels and pearls, her hair twisted into a large, sleek bun with a headband and white flower.

"Waldorf." He'd already drawn her towards him. "Beautiful, as always." She smirked and allowed him to kiss her cheek; she smelt so deliciously of her that he felt his mouth go dry, her body warm against his.

She pulled away to kiss Nate's cheek, too, for appearance's sake. (Though she didn't linger quite as long). "So," she smiled at the blond. "When are we planning to push your slimy cousin overboard?"

Nate laughed and shook his head as the three of them headed towards the end of the dock to where the yacht waited. (And, Chuck noted with a small, dark stab of satisfaction - Carter was left to make his own way).

* * *

The sun was just staring to sink, golden rays threading the horizon and glittering off the water that surrounded the large moored white yacht. Music from the boat's live band thrummed in the air, mingled with the sound of revelry from its beautifully-dressed young guests. Most of them were well past tipsy, champagne bubbling with loud laughter, gin, rum and cocktails.

And Carter was bored.

He was sprawled on one of the leather seats, glass of scotch in hand as he ignored the group of guys around him that were all inhaling cigarettes, desperate to hear more of his adventures.

He could see Blair out of the corner of his eye. She was standing with Nate - and Chuck, of course - and a couple of girls he vaguely recognised from Constance. He only watched her because there was nothing else to do. And he remembered three years ago when she would have been at his side, his arm round her waist as he knocked back his drink. Three years ago, Archibald and Bass probably would have been among the boys gathered round him.

He pulled a face.

God, he'd left this life. What the hell was he doing back?

He heard her laugh, quiet, and watched her smooth a strand of hair behind her ear. Immaculate. She looked so good, he thought with irritation. Three years ago he would've told her how beautiful she looked and kissed the top of her head, her jaw. Just where the hairline met. She would've smiled and slipped her hand into his.

Obviously now she didn't even look at him.

* * *

"Hey, Nate."

The conversation died as soon as Tripp approached. He smiled at his cousin, either oblivious to or choosing to ignore the frosty looks aimed in his direction. Chiefly from two brunettes.

"Party's good, huh?"

Nate's grip tightened round his glass. "Yeah."

When it became apparent he wasn't going to say anything else, Tripp sighed. "Look. Can we talk?"

"Actually, Nate is busy." Blair's tone was sugary sweet. She made a show of glancing round. "Where's Maureen? I haven't seen her."

Tripp cleared his throat at the mention of his wife. "Uh, she's in Westchester with her parents." As expected, it had made him uncomfortable. Tripp and Maureen may not have divorced after his affair surfaced, but it was no secret that they barely spoke any more. Carefully posed photographs notwithstanding.

"What a shame," Chuck said, coolly.

Tripp shook his head. He turned to Nate in one last attempt. "We're about to start some of those Cuban cigars, if you want to come?"

"Yeah," Nate muttered. "Maybe later." He stared at his drink until his cousin finally took the hint and left, and then his shoulders sagged. "God."

Chuck and Blair exchanged a glance. Kati and Iz were starting to give the blond curious looks, whispering between themselves. "Hey." Chuck caught his best friend's arm. "Why don't we get something a little stronger to drink?"

His fingers brushed Blair's waist, briefly, as he led Nate off; Blair's gaze slanted in understanding. "So." She arched an eyebrow at Kati and Iz once the boys had gone. "Have you decided which future congressmen are going to be your dates for this summer?"

And just like that, their attention shifted away from Nate and onto the crowds of expensively suited young men lining the boat's deck.

* * *

Serena had thrown her legs over the arm of her recliner, leaning back against the cushions as she flicked through a magazine without really reading any of it. She let out a sigh, twirling a strand of hair.

Eric paused on his way through the van der Woodsen living room. "Ok, that's the fourth time you've sighed in the past ten minutes." He gave his older sister a look. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she muttered. "Just...ugh. Nate's throwing a big party tonight." Eric winced sympathetically and Serena tossed the magazine down. "Which, of course, Blair couldn't wait to rub in my face." She glanced at him. "I know I shouldn't even care. I just..."

Eric frowned. "Blair doesn't have a right to keep you out of anywhere," he pointed out. "Especially since this whole thing is partially her fault anyway."

Serena picked glumly at the silk cushion underneath her. "Yeah, but it's also my fault. I can't...I can't face Nate."

Eric gave her a little nudge. "You have to face him sooner or later, Serena. You're back now." The blonde threw him a reluctant look in return. He raised an eyebrow. "And isn't it about time Blair realised that too?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment. The last thing in the world that Blair would want was her turning up to that party. "You know what?" she said, decisively. "You're right."

* * *

Carter could see her, talking and smiling - and he could see that she was bored. Whichever charming Ivy League trust fund brat she was stuck with clearly wasn't the best of conversation. He distantly remembered the first time he'd asked her to dance - the same carefully-concealed boredom on her face at another van der Bilt event. He remembered how tense she'd felt as he'd steered her around the room. Remembered wondering, with interest, what it would take to get her to relax.

She'd been so wound up then, so suspicious and distrusting of him, that he'd been sure she would have had no reservations slapping him had it not been for all the gathered people. And he realised that it felt the same way now. If he went up, now, and tried to guide her away -

"So, is is true you went to _Vietnam_?"

His attention was dragged back to the boy perched on his left, to the eager faces turned in his direction. He rolled his eyes.

And when he looked at her again, she'd left. He spotted her heading out of the cabin and onto the deck. Alone. Slowly, he got to his feet. He brushed off the protests - "Where are you going, Carter?" - and headed after her without a glance back.

* * *

Blair slipped round to the back of the yacht where it was dark and free of people. The music faded behind her, replaced by the gentle lapping of the water. Night had fallen, moonlight bouncing over the waves. Her arms rested against the railings as she gazed out across the sea.

A breeze whispered across her bare shoulders. And then there was a sudden heat behind her, a breath against her hair and a pair of hands tight around her waist.

She smiled and leaned into him, back pressed against the warmth of his chest. One of her arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed her bare shoulder, lips trailing a path up the curve of her neck.

"Miss me?" he murmured against her ear. The words sent a pleasant tingle down her spine.

"No," she smirked back, even as she arched against him.

There was a noise, low in his throat, as he turned her to him properly. He kissed her full on the mouth, and she stretched up to kiss him back as the railing dug into her back. He caught her, her grip twining round him as he lifted her up and onto the railings.

"Chuck-"

There was nothing behind her, just sea.

But he had her tight.

He kissed her again as her hands fisted on his shirt collar. And then his hand inched to the small of her back and he dipped her, dangerously. She clung tighter to him, tight enough to be painful, as her voice muffled against him.

"Chuck!"

She'd wrapped her thighs around him now too.

"Did you miss me?" he murmured again as he held her.

She was aware that he was the only thing stopping her from falling, but she only grinned back. "Maybe a little."

Then she'd pushed him away from the railings, curling around him as he caught her waist and her lips crashed into his, his back hitting the cabin wall behind them.

* * *

Carter frowned as he stalked round the side of the boat, sounds of the party growing quieter. He was sure he'd seen her come this way. Where had she disappeared to? And why here, he wondered, where it was so deserted? He knew that his attempts to talk to her last time had ended in complete failure, but the opportunity of catching her alone again was too tempting to miss.

And it wasn't like he was missing anything else at the party.

He paused as another sound reached his ears. Definitely not the band's music or drunken conversation. He moved closer to the back of the yacht, straining to see in the darkness.

And then his eyes were flooded with light.

He realised soon after that the sound he'd heard was the roar of another boat's engine - a much smaller boat that was currently pulling up next to the yacht. He could hear noises behind him now as people from the party realised, eager calls to whoever was on board.

A head of golden hair, long brown arms and even longer legs. Serena climbed easily off the small vessel and stepped onto the yacht's deck. She stood for a moment, framed in the light, blonde tresses streaming behind her. She was dressed to kill in a low-slung beaded red and black dress, towering stilettos and full red lips. Her blue eyes rested on Carter for a moment.

And, pressed against the shadows, unseen by the rest of the boat, Chuck and Blair. Carter had been seconds from discovering them. But Serena saw. She saw Chuck's discarded jacket, his open shirt - and Blair's wide eyes, fixed on her over Chuck's shoulder.

Serena shook her head.

And then a confused voice rang out from the upper deck.

"Serena?"

She froze at the voice - Tripp was staring down at her, his cigar forgotten. And beyond him stood Nate, muddled gaze full of hurt as the two of them took each other in.

Serena swallowed.

Well, this party was going to be fun.

* * *

**A/N - Thanks very much for all your reviews! They are hugely appreciated :) Sorry that there wasn't much Chair reaction in this chapter...more to follow! **


	9. Chapter 9

"She _saw_ us."

Blair's voice was little more than a hiss as she yanked her dress to straighten it.

Chuck had already pulled on his jacket, slicking his hair back down. "She's not going to do anything."

"Of course she is," Blair snapped back. Her hands slid to her own hair, smoothing and re-smoothing the dark bun to try and regain its sleek styling. The styling that she'd forgotten about entirely while Chuck had been kissing her. "She's just trying to work out _what_."

"She's known for a whole year," he pointed out as he fastened his ascot.

Blair grabbed her lipstick from her discarded white purse; her hand shook a little in the attempt to reapply it. "A year when she wasn't here." She let out a noise of frustration as the lipstick slipped and smeared. "You know what will happen if she tells _anyone-_"

He grabbed her wrists then, and pulled the tube out of her hand. "She won't. She has no proof." His fingers caught Blair's chin, tilting her face up to his. He wiped the smudge from her lips as he gazed down at her. "Who'd believe her?"

Her eyelashes fluttered at his touch. She swallowed, looking back up at him. "You know Bart only needs a hint of suspicion-"

Chuck's grip tightened. "He won't get one." He pulled her closer to him. "Serena-"

"Is not going away." Blair jerked out out of his grasp. "She's not going away, Chuck. It's just the beginning." Her heated gaze rested on him for a moment. "This is a bad idea."

He reached for her again, this time with an eye-roll. "This conversation," he pointed out, "Feels eerily familiar. And I'm pretty sure the last time you said the same thing, we had sex in a cloakroom less than a month later." He smirked at her. "Face it, Waldorf. You can't stay away from me."

But she didn't smile back. "Serena's _here. _Sneaking around together is stupid. It's too dangerous."

"That never stopped you before," Chuck murmured. Panic had started to claw, silently, at his chest. Panic like that very conversation a few months into their affair, when Bart had suggested he take Serena out - and Blair had frozen and told him they needed to end it. When she'd tried to shut him out because it was a_ bad idea. _

Of course, the scheming had started once they'd found out what Bart was really up to. And with the scheming, sex was somehow inevitable. (At least where they were concerned). He hadn't lost her then - he couldn't lose her now.

She tried to force him away, all too aware of the heat of his chest and his golden eyes. His scent. "The stakes weren't as high then." When they'd first found out exactly what the stakes were, she'd kept telling herself she needed to stop. They needed to stop. And then he looked at her or he kissed her and she never could. So she started telling herself it didn't matter because no one knew. Because when it was just them, in his suite or her room - or his car, or anywhere - when it was just them, nothing else mattered.

He was still holding her. "Blair-"

She looked up at him, brown eyes wide, and for a split second there was something strange in her expression; a terrified challenge, a yearning that hardly dared surface. _Nothing else mattered._

"Carter!"

Serena's voice sailed over to them, snapping them out of it.

Carter Baizen.

Chuck tried to repress a flinch at the name and the stupid fucking reminder. Of course _Carter Baizen_. His eyes slid to Blair; but she'd already closed off her face, turning away. And the bitter, twisting insecurity burned inside him again. Carter fucking Baizen.

Blair shut her eyes. She could hear Serena, now, laughing and talking to the other guests. Serena knew and Serena was back - and the blonde wasn't going to let her forget it.

"We need to go."

She'd already slipped out of his hold, shoving aside the lingering heat of his touch, and started back round the side of the boat. (Shoving aside the choking sense of disappointment too).

And Chuck was left alone with just the sound of the waves.

* * *

Serena had hardly stood on the deck for a second when the girls all flocked to her. They couldn't _believe _she'd actually crashed the party. And not just any party - _Tripp's _party. All their eyes slid to the upper deck, and noted with glee that he was still standing there and still staring at Serena. (Nate, unfortunately, had disappeared. Which was all Serena noticed).

How had she got that other boat to bring her here? Was there a kiss with a gorgeous sailor involved? Who had done her hair? Where was her purse from? What perfume was she wearing?

They lapped her answers up with delight, vultures squabbling for the juiciest piece of meat. Serena laughed and gushed and barely paid attention. Blair still hadn't reappeared.

And then she saw Carter sloping back to the cabin, clearly in search of a drink. Lucky for Chuck and Blair. So she called out to him, and he had no choice but to stop because everyone was looking.

He arched a bored eyebrow. "Nice entrance, van der Woodsen."

She dimpled back. "Looks like you're having a good time."

"The best."

She opened her mouth to ask something else - and then, finally, she saw Blair. Hair immaculate and lipstick flawless, like she hadn't just been in the throes of passion with Chuck Bass on the back of a boat.

Carter followed her gaze.

"Blair," Serena smiled. Her teeth were too white and too perfect. "Come join us." She turned the smile on Carter - and then, of course, Carter disappeared with a scowl.

Serena wondered vaguely if Blair had instructed Chuck to wait five minutes before re-emerging too. Of course she had. She was lucky that Carter had gone, really - he wouldn't have been stupid enough not to notice something so obvious. Then again, Serena reflected, maybe Blair_ did_ want Carter to know. What revenge could be better than sleeping with his best friend? (Serena would know).

"Aw, you're wearing the dress from earlier." The condescending tilt of the blonde's head again. "Cute."

Blair smiled brittly back. "Oh. I didn't realise the dress you were holding in Saks was quite so low-cut."

Serena's blue eyes blazed. "Why's your lipstick smudged, B?"

Blair forced herself not to react. Chuck had wiped it off himself; obviously Serena was lying. Kati, Iz, and Penelope were all looking at her with confusion now.

"Excuse me." Her voice was clipped as she gave her best friend a cold glare. "I'm going to go find Nate." She walked off, stiffly.

Serena tossed her hair, trying to contain all the hurt and anger. "I need a drink," she announced. And of course, the girls were all too eager to follow her straight to the bar, readying the next barrage of questions.

* * *

The party raged on, the young guests getting progressively drunker, the music and the laughter louder. Ties had been loosened, shirts unbuttoned, heels slipped off. The yacht cast a luminous circle, lights ablaze, on the glittering midnight waves.

Somehow Blair and Nate had ended up together again - mainly because they both had so many people to avoid. Carter and Chuck and Tripp and most of all, Serena. Serena who held the attention of most of the boat as she swallowed cocktail after cocktail, laughing and dancing and sparkling, sparkling.

Nothing could ever tarnish that sparkle.

At least Nate and Blair had rum.

"You know," Nate was slumped on the leather stool of the yacht's minibar, "All I ever do is go to parties that I don't really want to go to. And this one's even worse, because it's my own party."

Blair sighed from the stool next to him. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Archibald." She sent a glower over to Kati and Iz. They were _fawning_ over Serena. "I can't even get decent minions." _  
_

"I hate my grandfather. And my cousin."

Blair took a sip from her drink. "I hate your cousin too."

They both turned their attention to Tripp, who was surrounded by other drunken political ingenues and _still_ looking furtively at Serena. But who wasn't looking at Serena? They watched Tripp down another glass of something and then stand up. Blair realised before Nate that he was heading straight for the blonde.

Nate's grip tightened on his drink when he finally saw.

Tripp was talking to Serena now, smiling.

"I need some air."

The blond got to his feet and stumbled out of the cabin.

Blair considered going after him - but then she remembered Chuck was on the deck. (And she wasn't even supposed to be thinking about Chuck, or wondering where he was. She was supposed to be staying away from him. She needed to stay away from him). At least Chuck would stop Nate falling overboard, anyway.

* * *

Chuck had gone round the side of the boat in search of a break. And some more alcohol - alcohol that wasn't from the bar a certain brunette was sat at. (Even though he really wanted nothing more than to go to that bar).

But he was stopped on his journey by the worst person at the party.

Because of course Carter Baizen was blocking his path. And it clawed at Chuck again as he took in the other guy, leaning so indolently over the yacht's railings with a bottle of scotch in his hand. Why? Why had he come back - and, more importantly, why the hell hadn't he left? Why had he even come to this party, when it was so obvious he was bored out of his mind?

And even worse was the knowledge, deep down, that Chuck knew why. Because what other explanation was there? And he couldn't take it. It burned him, ate away at his insides.

"Baizen."

Carter spared him a glance. "Bass," he sighed. "Lurking in the shadows again? What a surprise."

Chuck's lip curled. "Who's the one drinking alone?"

The guy had obviously been drinking for a while, too; Chuck recognised the signs. Even now. From all the hours all those years ago - at least it felt like it - that they'd used to spend drinking and partying together. Always trying to outdrink and outparty and outdo. Chuck wondered, irrationally, if Blair used to hold back Carter's hair when he was drunk the same way she did his. If she'd peeled off his shirt and pushed him into bed like she'd done on Chuck's birthday - a birthday that he barely remembered, other than her hands on his clammy forehead in the night and her warm weight at his side, pressed into his back, arms wrapped round him. No, Chuck realised. Blair could never have done that for Carter. Because Blair would never have needed to do that for Carter - he was in control even when he was completely gone, all swagger and Blair's waist caught in his arm. He'd swept her off her feet even when he was drunk.

And it made Chuck feel sick.

Winter formal and the look on Blair's face as Carter danced with her. Chuck had only seen a fleeting glimpse of it then - but gradually, it became the way Blair always looked at him. And Chuck got used to it just like everyone else did, because he had girls by the dozen anyway, and Blair was one of his best friends and Carter was his drinking buddy - and Blair was never going to look at anyone the way she looked at Carter.

The way she used to look at Carter.

(And the knowledge that she was never going to look at anyone else that way consumed him sometimes). Because Carter was back now. And Carter had won Blair Waldorf round once, even when she'd started off hating him.

"What is your problem?" Carter sighed again. Because he could suddenly _feel_ the loathing emanating from the other guy. "Seriously, Bass. You're more than welcome to your little band of lapdogs - if you really need them following you around everywhere, then they're yours."

"I'll pass," Chuck replied coldly. "_Thanks_, though. That's very generous of you."

Carter rolled his eyes. "Then what? Are you seriously still annoyed that I tried to steal your boyfriend?"

Chuck didn't bother to answer.

"Come on." Carter shook his head. "Your little ignoring act is really getting dull. Were you really that heartbroken when I left?"

Chuck's gaze slanted. "I don't think anyone was heartbroken when you left, Baizen." It was a nasty drawl. (And a lie, the voice in the back of his head whispered even more nastily).

There was silence for a moment.

When Carter next spoke, his voice was deliberately unaffected and even. "How is she?"

Chuck's mouth twisted, incredulous. Carter was definitely drunk. "You're really asking _me_?" he sneered. "You actually think you I'd tell _you_?"

And at that, the second man's expression turned icy. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise you'd become such a saint while I was away. What are you now, her guardian? I doubt very much that she'd ever need _you_ to look after her."

Chuck smirked bitterly, forcing back the same bitter taste in his mouth. "You're a joke, Baizen. A pathetic moron who ran away and only came back because you were stupid enough to run out of money."

Carter's jaw twitched for a moment. "You know," he exhaled, "If it were anyone else, I might actually punch them. But for you? I just can't be bothered." He gave a snort.

There was a voice before Chuck could respond.

"Chuck? Is that you, man?"

He turned to see a thoroughly morose Nate peering into the darkness.

"What are you doing back here?" Then he made them both out. "Oh. Hey, Carter."

Carter smiled thinly back. "Hi." He threw Chuck one last unpleasant glance. "I'll leave you two to your romance, shall I?" Chuck glared a hole in the guy's back as he strutted off; then he finally turned back to Nate. He hadn't realised it was possible for the blond to look any more unhappy.

"Drink?"

Nate just nodded.

* * *

Blair was still watching Tripp and Serena, eyes narrowed. Tripp said something else to her, leaning into her; Blair saw the blonde nod somewhat reluctantly, and then she was following him outside. Outside to where she obviously didn't realise Nate had gone. And then Kati, Iz, and Penelope had popped straight back up at Blair's side. They looked excited beyond belief.

"Oh my god. Did you _see_ who Serena was talking to?"

"Who she just_ left_ with?"

"I bet they're not going to be talking any more-"

"Go bore someone else with your petty gossip," Blair snapped. They all stopped, taken aback - but Blair had already got to her feet, and was already heading out onto the deck.

The air was noticeably colder outside. She ignored it as she searched for one blonde head. And sure enough, there she was. Serena and Tripp were standing by the railings, oblivious to the few drunken party guests on the deck and deep in discussion. Blair watched Tripp put his hand on Serena's arm, watched Serena pull it away.

She moved close enough to catch their conversation.

"I _missed_ you," Tripp was insisting.

Serena looked obviously upset. "I told you it's over."

"But you're back now-"

"And I didn't come back for you!" Her voice rose in frustration. "You're married, Tripp."

"But I don't love her. I never have. And you and me were so good together-" He was reaching for again, clumsy in his drunkenness, trying to hold her arm. "I _love_ you, Serena-"

Serena was pressed against the railings now as she struggled to push him away. Her dress had curled up her legs, blonde hair a mess. And she was drunk too, turning her face away from his. "Get off me, Tripp." He was too far gone to even notice.

Blair marched forwards and tapped him, coldly, on the shoulder. He lurched round in confusion. Blair gave him look of disgust. "There are people watching. I think you should stop before you ruin your political career for good."

He seemed to regain some of his senses, at that, backing off as he took in the deck again. Serena gave him another shove - he stumbled further back. And then he deflated.

"I-"

"Go." Blair's voice was icy.

Serena turned on her once he'd gone. She'd wrapped her long arms around herself. "Trying to get more material to drive me out of town again?"

It stung. Blair opened her mouth - and then closed it again. Swallowed. "I'm just trying to avoid another scene," she said rigidly.

The blonde just snorted. "Like you and Chuck making out?" There was a beat of silence. Blair couldn't say anything to that, and she knew it. But Serena wasn't done. She was just as hurt and _angry _as she had been earlier, and drunk (and guilty, because she knew Nate could still hardly look at her - and she'd wanted nothing more than to go over to him at the bar, laugh and drink with him like they'd used to, unfurrow his brow and lift his shoulders - but she couldn't and _Blair _had been there anyway. And one year ago she would have been sitting with them too). She looked down at the brunette. "You don't get to judge me," she said quietly, cocktails rolling off her. "Not when you're Chuck's Bass's dirty little secret."

Blair refused to react. "I'm _not_-"

"You can't even admit it!" Serena stared at her in disbelief. "I assumed you were just lying to me," she murmured, "But the truth is that you're so scared he's going to hurt you like Carter did that you can't even admit it yourself."

The other girl stiffened like she'd been slapped.

"I'm right," Serena realised. "Aren't I? You_ betrayed_ me because you couldn't even face up to telling me you had feelings for him." She shook her head, slowly. "You know what, Blair? I feel sorry for you."

Blair was trembling now. "This coming from the girl," she spat, "Who can't even decide which van der Bilt she's in love with?" Her teeth were clenched. "I _told_ you over and over again to stay away from Tripp - I told you right from the beginning-"

"So what?" Serena almost shouted. "You thought you'd punish me?" Her gaze narrowed with furious incredulity. "Because in your version of your life, you're so perfect that no one else is allowed to make a mistake?"

It cut into Blair, hard. All the times she'd picked Serena up off floors and wiped vomit off her mouth - she _loved_ Serena. Unconditionally. Always. That was never going to change, however much she might have wanted it to. "I'm your best friend," she hissed. "I'm one of the only people who has _never_ judged you."

The two girls faced each other, eyes bright and chests heaving with anger. And then Serena lowered her head. "No, you're not." She bit her lip and shook her head once more. "We're not friends, Blair. Friends don't do that to each other." She fought back the tears behind her lashes, suddenly drained. "You know what? You don't have to worry any more. I'm not going to tell anyone about you and Chuck, and I'm not going to waste any more time trying to get some kind of revenge on you." She shrugged. "I just don't care any more." Blair stared at her. "I just...I don't want anything to do with you, Blair."

Blair could only keep staring, numb, as Serena turned away. The blonde didn't even look back - and still Blair stayed frozen as the sound of her heels against the deck faded into nothing. Blair was alone. She should have been celebrating that she was finally going to be left alone. Serena hating her was horrible. But Blair was used to hating people, and used to hating Serena sometimes.

What she couldn't deal with - what she couldn't process and she couldn't even imagine - was Serena not caring at all.

Serena didn't care.

* * *

Carter was pissed. Pissed on alcohol, and pissed at Bass. God, the guy was an insufferable bastard. He tossed down his half-finished bottle as he shoved his way through the cabin and to the bathroom. He was sick of this stupid party, sick of the idiots that wouldn't leave him alone, sick of Nate's stupid misery and Serena's knowing smile and goddamn Chuck Bass.

Of course the bathroom was fucking occupied. He rolled his eyes and leaned against the door. Great. Just great. Probably another idiot throwing up from one too many cocktails. Carter was just about to knock, five minutes later, out of sheer irritation, when the door finally opened.

And then Blair Waldorf was standing there.

She stopped for a moment as she realised who it was. Stopped, and then looked away. "Excuse me." She was on the verge of slipping past him without so much as another word - but someone stumbled into the tiny corridor, clearly drunk beyond belief, and trapped them both in.

"Whoa." He flailed against the wall, almost falling right on top of Blair.

Carter went to grab him, annoyed - but he lurched right out of his hold. And then threw up all over Blair's dress. There was a moment while both Carter and Blair stared, unable to fully believe it. Blair had gone white in furious horror. "You _imbecile_!" She jerked away, looking physically sick herself as she saw the state of her clothes. The smell.

Carter took action then - because he'd had about enough of this _fucking_ party. He shoved the guy right out of the corridor, hearing him thump to floor outside with some satisfaction. And then he returned to Blair, who was looking dangerously close to losing it altogether.

"Come on," Carter muttered. He went to usher her into the bathroom - she pulled away, of course.

"I don't need your help," she bit. "Thank you."

"Come _on_," he said with some impatience. "You and I both know vomit only makes you-"

But she was already looking decidedly green as the smell engulfed the corridor. And then she'd pushed past him anyway, only just reaching the toilet in time. He waited till she'd finished before giving her a look.

"Can you just let me help now?"

"I don't need your help," she stated again. Her voice, weak from throwing up, didn't sound quite as convincing.

"You're going to have to take your dress off," Carter pointed out. He was already shrugging off his jacket.

Blair glared. Could this night get any worse, she wondered? But the smell was still there, and it was already making her nauseous again. Carter waited outside the bathroom while she peeled the now disgusting garment off. She was only wearing a white slip underneath; she paused as she looked at his jacket again. She didn't want to put it on. Didn't want to, because it was making her feel sick - only a different kind of sickness. How many times had she slipped his jacket over her shoulders after a night out, breathing in the scent of his cologne as she wrapped the material around her?

And it all felt like a sick joke now.

She held it out to him as she re-emerged from the bathroom. "Thanks. I'm fine."

Carter rolled his eyes. "It's cold."

But her look back was colder. Blanker. "And I don't need it. Thank you."

He regarded her. "Blair," he muttered. "Come on."

"I said I don't need it." _  
_

He looked at her again, at her pale face, hair still perfect even after being sick. "Suit yourself." He paused - and he realised, with a jolt, that he'd been gazing at the flimsy slip and the skin that it revealed. And his thoughts had been drifting down the track they'd always used to.

She seemed to realise too; it prickled, uncomfortable.

"Can you just take the jacket?" he asked tightly.

So she had no choice but to take it. (And hadn't she always done what Carter wanted, in the end?) She realised with some relief that he had at least changed his cologne.

"So what were you doing down here all alone?" he enquired. He hadn't failed to notice how white she'd been even before that guy had thrown up. And she'd never liked to be alone at parties - unless something was wrong.

Her lips tightened. "Going to the bathroom?"

He gave her another look, and she hated it. Hated how familiar it felt. He had no right. No right to even look at her like that anymore. No right to pretend he cared when he so obviously didn't.

"I should get back." She could find Nate and ask him for his jacket. Get the weight of this one off her shoulders. She paused for a moment, glancing at Carter. "Thank you. For...your help."

His mouth twitched. (He wished she'd stop saying thank you. Wished she'd stop pretending). "My pleasure." She turned to go - he took a breath. "Blair." She stilled. And the words stuck in his throat, anyway. So he held up her ruined dress instead. "Forgetting something?"

Her nose wrinkled. (And that was the Blair Waldorf he knew). "It's destroyed now." She pulled her gaze away from his, and her expression was suddenly, briefly hollow. "I don't want it any more."

For some reason Carter almost flinched.

"Thanks again."

She left.

* * *

The night had reached the stage where couples were strewn about the deck, the effects of alcohol gradually dulling their senses and thickening everything into a haze. Glasses and abandoned items of clothing were scattered everywhere, music still saturating the night air.

Nate was leaning back on the leather seats inside, hair ruffled and tie long gone. "I think I need to stop drinking," he mumbled blearily. "I always seem to be drunk lately."

"Hardly fitting for the next senator," Chuck agreed. He'd also drunk far too much. His own shirt was unbuttoned, jacket thrown over the chair next to him. If he didn't see Blair in the next five minutes then he was going to find her. He hadn't seen her all night, and enough was enough.

Nate groaned. "I don't want to be a senator."

"You said," his friend mused. "About fifty times."

Nate didn't appear to have heard. "I just want..." His voice trailed off as Serena walked through the door. She was looking pretty worse for wear herself - but she was still the most beautiful girl in the room. She was the most beautiful girl in any room, Nate knew. Always.

She hesitated as she saw who was on the seats. Came to a stop, twirling her hair. "Um. I was just looking for my purse."

Of course she'd lost it. Chuck repressed an eye-roll.

Nate paused. "Oh. Uh, I can help you look for it?"

And that was Nate, Serena thought with a pang of longing. He would do anything to help. Always. "No. It's fine." She couldn't be here, couldn't see him. Because the knowledge that she'd messed everything up hurt too much. "I just wanted to...say, thank you. For the party." She gulped. "And sorry. For, you know...I know I wasn't invited." She smiled awkwardly. "But it was a great party."

"No problem." Nate managed a smile back.

Chuck contained a scoff at the stupid half-smile now on both their faces. Seriously. And then - finally - he saw her. Blair was threading her way across the dock, wearing a jacket and not much else. Her gaze met his.

But she'd spotted Serena and stopped in the doorway. Serena turned, and her smile evaporated. Serena broke the connection first.

"I should go."

She had to pass Blair to get out the doorway - she did so without a single glance in the other girl's direction. And Chuck saw the flicker of pain that Blair covered up immediately.

He was already on his feet. The room tilted - presumably thanks to the whiskey he'd consumed - but he ignored it. "What the hell happened?" He'd drawn close enough now to see just how pale she was in the cabin's light. Nate was distracted long enough from his Serena stupor to take in her appearance too; his brow knitted in concern.

"Blair?"

"Nothing," Blair muttered. "Some idiot decided to throw up on me. You need to be more selective with your guest list, Nate."

"Oh, god." Nate ran a hand through his hair. "Uh, do you want a sweater or something? I think we have one somewhere..."

Blair had already tugged the jacket off as she took a seat. "Please."

Chuck noticed then that the jacket was grey. And he told himself that it could have been anyone's. That plenty of guys at the party were probably wearing grey suits. (But then why was she so keen to take it off, when she was so obviously cold?) He'd sat down next to her and he could feel her shiver.

Nate disappeared to find a sweater. Blair had a feeling, as she watched him shuffle out, that he was going to be a while.

"So." Chuck kept his tone light. "Which knight in shining armour gave you their jacket?"

Blair's expression narrowed at him. "Carter."

"Did Carter suggest you take your dress off too?"

"It had vomit all over it," Blair responded shortly.

Chuck couldn't help it, the twist to his lip. "How convenient."

Blair looked at him again. "No," she snapped, "Someone _throwing up_ on me wasn't very convenient." She glared at him, at the dark gold eyes that she'd missed all night and his mess of dark hair. And it all overwhelmed her - Serena and Carter and her ruined dress and the fact that she hadn't seen him all night - and she could suddenly feel tears pricking at her eyes. She choked them back, furious. "Funnily enough," she hissed at Chuck, "None of this is _convenient."_ She jerked to her feet. "And we shouldn't even be here together."

He realised then that she was storming out and reacted instantly, reaching out to stop her. "Blair." He caught hold of her elbow, turning her into him. "Wait."

She was shaking, he realised.

"You're drunk," she accused as she looked down at him. She was trapped between his legs now.

He bet she hadn't even noticed Carter Baizen was drunk. "I'm not." The alcohol still coursing in his veins begged to differ.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes you are."

He drew her closer, down and onto his lap. "You're crying," he murmured very quietly. Blair Waldorf did not let people see her cry. Ever.

She struggled to get out of his hold, turning her face away. "Of course I'm not."

He pulled her to him - and he let her press her cheek against his shirt so he wouldn't see her tears. His hands moved over her back, rubbing her spine and her bare shoulders. He was warm, so warm. Her eyes closed as she breathed him in.

"You're so drunk," she sniffed. "What happened?"

His jaw clenched above her head. "I am not." (What happened was Carter Baizen came back. What happened was he realised he might lose her).

She glanced up at him then. Slowly, she ran a hand through his hair to brush it back. "You are." She placed her head back on his chest, fingers tracing his cheek. He closed his eyes at her touch. "I missed you," she whispered into his shirt. The real answer to his first question of the night.

He smelt of Chuck, and that was never going to change.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews! Hope there wasn't too much angst in this chapter...**


	10. Chapter 10

In a room high above the bustle of Manhattan's morning traffic, Carter was bored out of his mind. Yet again. Although at least this time he wasn't at a party or dull society event. This time, at least, it was business. And it wasn't business that made him bored so much as how ridiculously long it took other people to conduct it. People that just seemed to enjoy wasting his time.

He was trapped in the stifling room because Victoria had wanted him to meet with his father's lawyers. Carter knew even before he went what about - his mother had, of course, turned a blind eye to anything going on with the company after the death of her husband. Decided she couldn't handle it and it was beyond her capabilities, even though Carter knew damn well that it wasn't.

He'd agreed only to get her off his back. And because he knew it wouldn't get sorted otherwise. But Carter had left New York precisely because he _didn't_ want to end up behind Edward's desk for the rest of his life. Doing nothing and seeing nothing year after year. Being told what to do by stupid bureaucrats.

"Is everything clear, Mr. Baizen?" The balding attorney regarded him over his spectacles.

Carter sighed. They'd been sat in the same smoky office for the past few hours - and they hadn't even offered him a drink. Was it _clear_? Exactly who did these suits think they were dealing with? Inheritance was hardly a difficult concept to grasp. "The board gets a seventy percent controlling shareholding. Ten percent goes to my mother, and another ten percent to me." Non-controlling - thank God. Clearly Carter's father had taken his disappearance to mean he was no longer fit to run his precious company. And as long as Carter got the money, he was quite content with that. "The remaining ten percent is owned by the public."

"Not exactly." One of the lawyers cleared his throat. "There's another clause, just here..." Of course it was a clause that they'd failed to address in all their legal waffle.

Carter waited impatiently while the man shuffled through the papers in front of him. For God's sake. All Carter cared about was his ten percent - he didn't give a damn whether the rest was given to the public or not.

"Ah, yes." The lawyer blinked. "It says here that in the case of you assuming your ten percent," he glanced at the papers again, "In the case that you are, in fact, present to assume it-" (Carter repressed an eye-roll) "-Then that remaining ten percent will be given to Waldorf Designs."

Carter stared. "What?" And his boredom had dissipated, just like that. He must have misheard.

Two of the men exchanged a glance. "Well, the late Mr. Baizen wasn't sure that you'd be contactable for the division of the company. He suggested that if that were the case - if you weren't in the country - then, ah, seventy percent would go to the board, ten percent to his wife, ten percent to Waldorf Designs - and ten percent to the public. But in the case of you returning, then that last ten percent would go to you instead." They attempted to show Carter the papers. "We appreciate that it's a little complicated-"

"It's not complicated," Carter snapped back. Jesus. Insane was what it was - it made no sense. Why on earth would his father leave ten percent to the Waldorfs after everything that had happened? That union was finished. Carter had finished it. "Are you sure he didn't mean to amend this?" he demanded.

The other men shifted in their seats. They didn't appreciate being snapped at. "That _was_ the amendment," one of them spoke up at last. "Mr. Baizen. The change was made after you left."

Carter's jaw flexed. "I see."

Had Edward been experiencing a crazy bout of guilty conscience for his son's actions? It didn't sound much like the Edward Baizen that Carter remembered. Although, truth be told, that memory seemed to grow less clear and more faded every day.

"So if you'd just like to sign here..."

"Do the Waldorfs know?" Carter interrupted.

"Waldorf Designs hasn't officially been notified by us yet. Of course, your father may have informed the company of his decision already...but we're not at liberty to declare the information to them until these papers have been signed." The man speaking gave a pointed nod at the documents on the desk.

So they'd know soon.

"Mr Baizen?"

"All right," Carter sighed again. The sun that filtered through the office's window was suddenly giving him the worst headache. Christ, he needed a scotch. "Get me a pen."

* * *

The same morning sunlight poured into another room on the other side of Central Park. Blair glanced up from her dresser as she sensed the familiar presence at her door. Sure enough, Chuck had just prowled in. And of course he'd got by Dorota without so much as an announcement of his arrival.

He watched her for a moment, their eyes meeting in the mirror. And he took her in with great appreciation. She was dressed in a tight black and white checked dress, pencil skirt and elbow-length sleeves. Her hair was curled and pulled partially back. She looked, in short, like she meant business.

"It's such a shame that you're interning for Waldorf Designs and not Bass Industries," he murmured. Though he doubted very much that if she were actually working at his father's company, he'd be able to keep his eyes off her for more than a second.

She set down the dark red lipstick she'd just finished applying. "I'm hardly _interning_." She got to her feet, allowing him to appreciate her legs in those black velvet heels. "And we're both meant to be working." Her mouth curled a little. "Not having sex." Because were she at Bass Industries, she was fairly certain she'd be more interested in putting the expanse of a certain polished desk to use. Chuck in business attire did get her blood going. And the black pinstriped suit he currently sported? Case in point.

She was unable to resist smoothing his lapels as she approached him. "I'm busy. You need to leave, Bass."

His hands found her waist. "Waldorf," he purred. "You're so tense, and the day hasn't even started." He tugged her closer as his fingers slid over her hips, breathing in the light scent of her perfume. The hint of vanilla underneath that was purely Blair. "At least let me rectify that..."

Her pulse increased. And she very nearly let herself get lost in his touch - but then she remembered herself and slapped him away. "Oh, no. You're not messing up my hair. Or my dress." She gave him a light push. "I thought you had a meeting this morning?"

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Bart's still in Europe. The meeting was cancelled."

Blair winced inwardly on his behalf. He'd been prepping for that meeting all week - yet another reason for her to hate his father. But she placed her hands on her hips. "So you thought you'd come and distract me instead?" She shook her head. "Uh-uh. No. Do you _know_ who I'm meeting today?"

"No idea," Chuck responded drily. She'd only told him fifty times. In fact, she'd showed up at his suite last week for the sole purpose of telling him. And as delighted as he'd been with her excitement, he'd been even more delighted to discover just how much that excitement turned her on. But then, he'd reflected as she'd shoved him down onto his bed, he'd always known how arousing she found couture.

Her eyes slanted now. "Givenchy." She said the name like it was holy. She'd gasped it enough times on his mattress. "Givenchy, Chuck." It wasn't just Givenchy, of course; it was also the fact that he happened to dress a certain one of her idols.

Chuck pulled her to him again. He had, in fact, only showed up to wish her luck. She was practically quivering with excitement now - as he'd known she would be - no matter how hard she tried to keep it contained.

Givenchy was signing a deal with_ her_ mother's company. It was possibly the only time Blair had been even more obsessed with a deal than Eleanor was. She'd found out the day after the disastrous yacht party - and ruined dresses and ex-boyfriends had been forgotten in a second. She'd burst into Chuck's suite and completely ignored the hangover he was still suffering from. (And he'd soon forgotten about it too). The past week had been spent just trying to prove to her mother that she had what it took to sit in on today's meeting.

"If I do well today," Blair said reverently - like she hardly dared hope - "Then Eleanor's going to let me go with her to Paris. And do you know who's filming in Paris at the moment?"

He just smirked at her. And he couldn't stop the painful squeeze in his chest, purely because she was so happy. He hadn't seen her this happy - not counting when she was in bed with him - since a certain blonde had returned. Actually, since a certain blonde had _left_. He was also quite aware that the harder she focused on this meeting, then the less time she had to think about said blonde. "Croissants with Audrey," he mused.

"Audrey Hepburn," Blair corrected, "Does not eat _croissants_." But he could see the mere idea was making her giddy. She regained her composure with a stern frown. "Have you seen her figure?"

Chuck was a little too distracted with another brunette's figure - the only brunette that he cared about - to notice anyone else's. He placed a kiss on her jaw before she could stop him. "You'll have them all eating out of the palm of your hand," he murmured against her warm skin.

Her eyes closed, briefly, at his touch. "I better."

His thumb grazed the small of her back. "Not even a question, Waldorf."

She allowed herself a smile up at him. Her brown eyes were alight and for a second he found it hard to swallow. Or hard not to smile back like an idiot, anyway. He let her go.

But she caught his sleeve before he could turn away. "Try not to have too much fun in the office without Bart." She was still gripping his jacket as her lips curved. "And I might just reward you later." He cocked an eyebrow at her and she grinned. "What can I say? I'm in a good mood."

"Really?" he enquired. "I had no idea."

She smirked, and her fingers brushed his chest. "It happens." She used the same hand to push him to the door. (Before she gave into temptation and started unbuttoning that shirt). "Now go!"

He was still grinning as he headed out of her room.

* * *

Some people might have said that midday was too early for hard liquor. Carter was not one of them. And the dim mahogany interior of the Madison Club Lounge was a perfect escape from the glaring sun outside. Carter had been in far hotter cities than Manhattan - but somehow the heat of is seething concrete was oppressive, now, in a whole other way.

And the ice in his scotch was the best remedy for that.

They were never going to take it. There was no way in hell that he could envisage Eleanor Waldorf accepting a single thing from his family. And Blair would never even let her consider it. Not when she couldn't stand anything - anything - to do with him. (He'd found his jacket left on the chair in Nate's yacht once the party had ended).

Why the _hell_ had his father decided it would be a good idea? Maybe it was a good thing Edward Baizen died when he did, because he'd clearly been losing it. And now Carter was stuck in this stupid city, dealing with the mess his even stupider father had made, and pondering for possibly the thousandth time why, why, why he'd ever decided to come back. He could be sleeping his way through all the beauties of Australia at this very moment. Instead of thinking about the cold smile of a girl who so clearly loathed him.

And when had Carter Baizen ever cared about being hated before? He didn't care. He liked being hated, loved winding people up and driving them crazy. He'd used to drive her crazy sometimes. Her far less than anyone else - but still he'd used to say things just sometimes just to provoke her, just for his own amusement. And she'd used to pretend to be angry, but the truth was that Blair Waldorf forgave the people she loved far too easily. She never forgot, and she always expected better. The best. But she craved love and affection too much to ever cut herself off from the people she cared about.

Which could only mean, of course, that she no longer cared about him. Because she sure as hell wasn't having any problems cutting him off now. But what did he care? He was the one who'd left her. The only reason she kept invading his thoughts was habit; because he still couldn't get used to her not looking at him. Couldn't get used to the absence of that look on her face. But he damn well didn't have a conscience like his fool of a father seemed to have developed, and he most certainly didn't do _remorse. _He didn't regret getting out of this hellhole. Not for a second. The dullness of today's meeting had confirmed that for him. If he hadn't left, that dullness would be his life. Every day. If he hadn't left then he'd be focused on sobering up once he left this bar, headed home to a townhouse and - her.

And she'd be the perfect, perfect wife in pearls and a twinset. (She'd be his perfect, perfect wife). The way it was always meant to have been. He'd be sleeping with her by now. She'd be in his bed. He'd have her kisses and her adoration and the way she smiled when he gave her flowers.

_Fuck_ all of it.

Carter Baizen didn't waste time wondering what might have been. He didn't waste time thinking about the same thing, over and over. He was beyond sick of it. He'd made his decision. It was done. That was that. It wasn't ever going to _be_ again.

His increasingly irritated thoughts were disturbed by an all too familiar laugh. He groaned under his breath. Oh, great. That was all he needed. He turned on his barstool to see a certain blonde smiling at the doorman. She was dressed even more ridiculously than usual - especially given that the sun hadn't even set yet - and he honestly hadn't thought it was possible for her skirts to get any shorter. The little green number she was wearing proved him wrong. He'd heard that miniskirts were starting to become the latest craze, but there were still few Upper East Side princesses that would dare to wear them in daylight.

(And he knew Blair wasn't one of them).

But Serena seemed oblivious to that fact as she floated into the bar. The doorman was all too eager to show her a seat; the waiter was already popping up to take her order, eyes glued to her legs. Carter raised his eyes heavenwards.

"Don't you think it's a little soon to be drinking alone?" he drawled.

Serena tilted her head as she noticed him. Tossed her hair. "I'm meeting a friend."

"I didn't know Blair frequented bars this early in the day."

The blonde's eyes narrowed at him for a moment. But she soon brushed it off with a careless shrug. "I said a friend." She picked up the Sidecar the waiter had set down in front of her.

Carter knew enough (more than enough) about Blair and Serena's friendship - he'd had enough experience of Blair dropping anything, even him, to rush to the blonde's aid in the past. Although he'd assumed his and Serena's night in Santorini was proof they weren't exactly on good terms anymore. Still, he couldn't resist pushing. "And Blair is?"

Serena put her glass back on the bar. "What's with all the questions about Blair, Carter?" He scowled - Serena regarded him. Then she gave a little shake of her head. "Do you really think you stand a chance with her after what you did?" she asked. "Really?"

"Careful, van der Woodsen." Carter's tone stayed flat and unaffected. "You're sounding awfully protective of someone you supposedly hate."

"And you're sounding like you don't know her at all," came Serena's stubborn reply. She shook her head again. "I don't hate Blair. She's not my problem anymore." Carter's look of skepticism was returned with a raised eyebrow. "She's pretty much to me what you are to her. Nothing."

The scotch was bitter and it burned Carter's mouth as he swallowed it. "Well, it's been great talking." He tossed the glass down and stood up. "As always."

He didn't bother looking back as he stalked out - but he stopped upon reaching the door. And snorted, glancing at the girl before him. The girl just about to enter, who was without a doubt the _friend_ Serena was meeting. He should have known, really. "What are you doing back in town?" he sighed.

The girl just smirked at him. "Serena called, said she wanted to party..."

"So here you are."

She chuckled. "Here I am."

"Enjoy," Carter scoffed. He was already moving past her to go.

"Oh, I will."

He left as her eyes focused on the blonde inside. It looked like Serena had started the party without her. Well, she thought wickedly. It looked like Savannah and Svetlana were back.

* * *

Chuck gazed out over the city skyline, hands shoved into his pockets. He remembered staring at the same buildings as a child. Remembered enjoying the knowledge that so many of those buildings were his father's and would one day be his.

And now when he looked at them all he could think was that he couldn't wait to take them all away from the man.

Blair peeked her head round the door of Chuck's office. She'd been about to positively jump on him - and pin him straight to his desk - but seeing him silhouetted at the window made her pause. She smiled, faintly. She could seen the tension in his shoulders, the rigidity under his fitted jacket. And the afternoon sunlight that glanced off his dark hair, so familiar, made her insides twinge painfully.

She locked the door behind her and crept into the room in silence.

She slipped her arms round him, hands sliding up his chest as her head curved round to rest on his shoulder. She felt him start against her - and then relax into her hold as he realised who it was. His own head turned to meet hers, eyes travelling over her face. "It went well." Pride curled in his voice.

She grinned. "It was...amazing. Even better than I imagined." And that was saying something. "Eleanor's flying out to Paris today. But she says that if I carry on like this - then there's a ticket next month with my name on it." She could barely contain her glee.

Chuck smiled and dropped a kiss to the hand still resting on his chest. Her chin pressed into his collarbone as she held him tighter, eyes closing in happiness. They both watched the cloudless blue sky. Her gaze followed his to the other skyscrapers, and she moved even closer to him so that her voice whispered against his ear. "We're going to beat him." Her fingers wrapped around the collar of his shirt. "We are."

He turned into her then, desire clenching in his chest. She smirked and her arms twined around his neck.

"Are you ready for your reward now?" she teased.

In answer, he picked her up - her thighs wrapped round him straight away - and carried her to his desk. Her mouth collided hungrily with his, fingers reaching for his shirt buttons. She pushed the jacket off his shoulders. And he slid her skirt up her legs as one hand buried in her hair.

"God," she moaned, biting down on his lip. He'd already caught her hips and tugged her panties off. Her back arched up off the desk as his fingers caressed her inner thigh. "You know Givenchy is designing a perfume just for Audrey, and he gave us the test samples-" Chuck smirked as she dragged his shirt off, fingers digging greedily into his back. He pulled her closer to him on the desk. Her breath was coming out in short gasps, now, while he stroked in between her legs. "And you know the Givenchys are descended from Venitian nobility-" She was cut off by her own moan, reaching out to unzip his pants. He let her carry on as her legs curled around his torso and he rubbed against her, bracing his hands against the desk. He kissed her neck, sucked her earlobe. "...House of Givenchy, and I could actually get the chance to work there-"

He thrust into her and she whimpered in pleasure. Her legs gripped him even tighter. "I love couture."

"I love couture on you," he agreed breathlessly as his hand reached behind to unzip her dress, still filling her as he pinned her to the desk with his body. God, she was so tight and her hair smelt so delicious and her skin was so soft -

"I love Givenchy," she moaned, head thrown back in pure ecstasy.

"I love Givenchy too," he assured her. And he really, really did. Now he knew the only thing he needed to say to get her really, really -

"I love perfume!"

They were both getting closer and closer to the brink, and he could smell - taste - the perfume on her collar bone, the hollow of her neck, in between her breasts - and he loved it so much that it slipped out before he could even stop it, think about it - "I love _you_."

The words echoed.

Realisation dawned, and they both paused. He was suddenly, painfully aware that Blair had frozen underneath him. And that he was frozen too. Blair bit her lip, hard -

And a brusque knock at the door snapped them out of it. "Charles?" The male voice was muffled through the heavy wood, but horribly recognisable. Bart. It was Bart's voice. Bart was on the other side of the door. And they were both half-naked on Chuck's desk, still wrapped in each other and in a very, very compromising position.

Blair reacted first, shoving Chuck off her and leaping to her feet. "What the hell is he doing back?" she hissed. Her eyes were wide with panic.

"I have no idea." The same panic coursed through Chuck's veins as he attempted to do up his pants and re-button his shirt. Blair, meanwhile, was yanking at her zip to try and get her dress back on; but she couldn't reach and it was _stuck. _Genuine fear gripped her as the door handle turned - then she remembered that she'd locked it and relief flooded her.

"Chuck. What's going on in there?" Bart sounded annoyed now.

She went back to frantically trying to do up her dress. To no avail.

"For God's sake," she whispered, furious, as she tugged and twisted at the damn thing. "I can't have got _fatter_ in the past ten minutes-"

Chuck grabbed her then, turning her to do it up himself. It finally slid closed without a problem. She let herself breathe for a second, Chuck's hands still on her arms - and then she realised she had no idea where her underwear was.

"Open this door, Charles."

She scanned the room desperately. Where had Chuck thrown her La Perlas? She couldn't believe how careless they'd been. How careless _she'd_ been. What the hell had she been thinking, coming here? And how the hell was she even going to get out? Bart was going to see her. And then he was going to figure out exactly what was going on -

"Do I have to call security?"

"I'm coming," Chuck snarled at last. "One second."

The same thought had clearly crossed his mind too - Blair had no way of getting out. They exchanged urgent glances. Shit, shit. And then both their eyes alighted on the same thing. The desk.

"No way," Blair's gaze narrowed wildly. "I am not hiding under your desk like some kind of-"

"Charles!"

She scooted under the desk.

Chuck hastily checked that she couldn't be seen (grimacing at the indignity of it all) and then moved to the door, smoothing down his hair and re-tucking his shirt. He unlocked it. Assumed an expression of surprise. "Father!" He smiled."I didn't expect you back so soon."

Bart looked anything but impressed. "Clearly."

"Sorry," Chuck attempted as the man brushed past him and into the room. "I just wanted to, uh, clean the place up a bit." He moved behind the desk to try and block Blair in completely. He could _feel_ her warmth by his legs.

His father raised one brow. A pair of white underwear lay in the middle of the floor. Chuck followed his gaze and choked back a curse. "I can explain." Blair's hair was brushing his knuckles now. He could tell she couldn't stand not knowing what was going on; she was positively itching to peer round and look.

"Charles," Bart sighed. "Don't bring your sluts back to the office."

Chuck quickly slid a hand over Blair's mouth to cover her noise of outrage. "It won't happen again."

"It better not." Bart spared the office one more glance. Chuck still had his hand covering Blair's mouth, her breath hot against his palm. "I was thinking we'd go out to dinner tonight." The old man's brow was furrowed as he said it.

"Dinner?" Chuck echoed in disbelief. Since when did his father want to take him out to dinner? He could feel Blair's surprise too.

"Yes." Bart turned away, curtly. "Eight o'clock."

Chuck watched the man as he walked out of the office. Why the hell _was_ he back so early? And why did he want _dinner_?

"He's up to something." Blair had re-emerged from the desk. She fingered her curls to try and regain some ounce of dignity as she moved to Chuck's side. But she was frowning at the doorway too, thoughtful.

Chuck pursed his lips. "The question is what."

They glanced at each other. Her mouth was still swollen with his kisses, and there was a trace of her lipstick on his shirt collar. That, and their proximity, brought back the sudden memory of those three little words.

Blair swallowed. "Well, I need to get back to Waldorf Designs. Eleanor might have left, but she's got Laurel reporting my every move." She was already severing the connection as she ran her hands over her dress to smooth it. "I'll see you tonight, after the dinner? Then we can strategise properly."

"Right," Chuck murmured.

She forced a smile. "So, tonight then."

"Blair."

She stilled, halfway to the door. Her eyes were wide and dark as she turned back to him, almost as if -

"You might want these." He was holding her underwear.

She flushed. "Oh. Of course."

"I can always keep them." His smile was crooked as he studied her.

And her mouth twitched back despite herself. "You're disgusting." But the expression on her face was slightly more relaxed now, more genuine. She gazed at him for a moment - he gazed back, almost quizzical. Then she leaned forwards and kissed his cheek. Her lips were butterfly light on his skin. "We'll figure out what he's up to," she promised.

Her stomach was churning as she walked out almost as much as his was, his cheek still tingling from the feel of her mouth.

* * *

Blair threw herself into overseeing hemlines and writing up reports for the rest of the afternoon. Anything to stay busy. Distracted. Even the thought of Givenchy, now, just reminded her of what had happened in Chuck's office.

Mid-sex, his body frozen on top of hers, no mention of it afterwards - of course he hadn't meant it. Why had he said it? Why did he have to ruin everything by saying those three stupid words that he didn't even mean? People said anything during sex. Chuck had been the one to teach her that when they'd first started this whole thing. And then Bart had almost caught them -

Risky. Careless. Stupid.

Blair Waldorf was not supposed to be any of those things. Ever.

_I love you _was a risky, careless, stupid, _dangerous_ lie. Especially when it tripped as easily off the tongue as it had just done for Chuck. (Except Chuck had never told _anyone_ he loved them and she knew that for a fact; so what on earth had just happened?)

She'd learnt her lesson well. She couldn't trust those words. And it had never even occurred to her that she'd hear them from Chuck; she'd thought she was safe. First of all, because when they'd started she'd convinced herself it was just sex. Second, because she knew that those words terrified him almost as much as they nauseated her. And third, because they'd never _needed_ words. She didn't need him to call her beautiful because she could see it in his face - in the way he looked at her. She didn't need him to tell her he wanted her because she could feel it when he touched her. When he kissed her. She didn't need him to tell her he cared about her because when his hand intertwined with hers she already knew. She could read his face, his expressions, his gestures, his voice better than anyone.

(So why had those words thrown her so completely?)

He hadn't meant it and they both needed to forget about it. And be a hell of a lot more careful. They were going to focus instead on finding out what, exactly, Bart had planned. Which involved two of Blair's favourite activities - spying and scheming.

"Blair?" It was Laurel. "Givenchy's secretary just sent some flowers to say thank you. What do you want-"

"I'll take them." Blair had already snatched them, eagerly, from the woman's grasp. "Orchids," she smirked. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Mmm."

Blair ignored Laurel's arched brow to find a vase for the gorgeous bouquet. The thrill had filled her again; nothing was going to bring her down. She'd met _Hubert de Givenchy_. Nothing - nothing could possibly bring her down.

"Blair."

Except for that voice.

The smile slid off her face as she turned to see Carter Baizen. In her mother's office. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, coldly. She felt somehow like she'd been violated. Carter couldn't be here. He didn't get to just walk into her work - her happiness - whenever he felt like it. (Why couldn't he just leave her alone?) Leaning against the wall in all his arrogance, tieless with that brown hair devilishly raked. Why couldn't he look different, Blair wondered, from three years ago? So that maybe she wasn't left quite so cold every time she had to see him?

The truth was that Carter Baizen wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here either. "I get it." He held up his hands, weary. "You don't want to see me me."

"Then what are you doing here?" she repeated. She didn't want to see him, she didn't want to hear him - she didn't even want a conversation with him. Not again. Not another one.

"We need to talk."

Her lips pinched. "We don't."

"Not about us," he sighed quietly.

When she spoke, it was like ice. "There is no us." He'd made sure of that himself. God, why was he _here_?

"Blair." He almost caught her arm - stopped himself at the flare of her nostrils. "Please." Carter Baizen never said please. He took what he wanted and he didn't answer to anyone. Didn't beg anyone.

She watched him, and her expression was unreadable. "All right," she said at last. Acidic. "You have one minute."

"I just came from a meeting with my father's lawyers."

"And?"

He gave her a look. "Would you let me finish? It was about the division of his company." She waited. Carter exhaled; he wasn't much looking forward to he reaction. "He left Waldorf Designs ten percent. The lawyers should let you know soon - it was in his will."

Blair stared at him. Ten percent of Edward Baizen's company? "Why would he do that?"

"Honestly?" Carter shrugged, still regarding her. "I have no idea."

There was a pause as Blair considered. She already knew the answer though - already knew exactly what Eleanor would think of all this. "Tell your lawyers we don't want it."

His mouth twisted a little. "I figured you'd say that," he murmured. "But it's not up to me. Look, I swear this decision wasn't anything to do with me. I don't know what the old man was thinking - really." He shook his head. "I know Eleanor's going to...hit the roof."

"Yeah," Blair muttered back. Carter was damn lucky she wasn't here at the moment. She glanced away to dismiss him. "Well, I'd better get ready to tell her." He turned to walk out the door - Blair watched him go. She paused. It lurched out of her, unwilling. "Why did you bother coming to tell me?" And, as he glanced back at her and she folded her arms tight - "If your lawyers were going to anyway."

He raised one shoulder. "Figured you'd want a head's up." His mouth twisted again in something that wasn't quite a smile.

Blair was silent. "Thank you," she managed in the end. But he realised that unlike all other other fake _thank yous_ she'd given him since he'd got back, this time she did sound something that might have bordered on grateful. Still confused - and suspicious - but for once, she seemed like she meant it.

He tore his eyes away from hers - and one more thing struck him as he left. "Oh, on that note? Georgie's back in town."

He saw the expression that flickered across her face before she wiped it away. Blair's hatred for Georgina Sparks, as far as Carter knew, was eternal. And possibly even stronger than her hatred for him at the moment. "I see." Blair's blood had run decidedly cold. Because there was only one reason Georgie could be back. Serena. And there was only one thing Georgie ever caused for Serena.

Trouble.

* * *

**A/N - So...don't hate me for essentially stealing the show's ILY? Chuck's POV will be coming next chapter. Also: I did bring in Georgina, but I'm afraid she's not going to be a huge character in this fic - more like a trigger for Blair/Serena. Oh, and I'm not going to drag out this whole Bart vs Chuck, Bass Industries storyline (mainly because a) I use it so much in my other fics, and b) it's so dull on the show atm) - I promise it's taking another direction! **

**Thanks very much for all your wonderful reviews :) **


	11. Chapter 11

After his little detour to a fashion house that he'd rather not think about, Carter had decided to finish what he'd started. Namely, getting drunk. He'd had a notion of hitting all his old favourite bars. Except it turned out, of course, that all those spots had become all the guys' favourite spots too. It had taken him a while, but he'd finally shaken off his wannabe posse to find a tucked away piano bar where the music was cool and his whiskey even cooler.

And, he decided as he glanced around the beautiful velvet interior and even more beautiful girls, he might just make this place his regular. Especially since no one would ever find him in Brooklyn.

The girl singing at the moment had sent him a couple of glances. Secret smiles. He figured he'd wait until she'd finished her set and then ask her to join him. She was beautiful, and it had been long enough since he'd got laid.

"Carter Baizen?"

He paused and glanced up from his drink.

There was a girl standing in front of him. She looked Asian and vaguely familiar.

"You remember me?" she grinned at him. "Kanya?"

And the whiskey soured in his mouth as he finally placed her. She'd been the first girl he'd slept with on his travels. High on freedom and high enough from an opium den that he'd managed to forget tears and a broken promise, a girl telling him she was ready and a sense of guilt that he'd refused to carry round with him because he was Carter Baizen. She was a small brunette, but she'd been talented and experienced where he'd known another brunette wouldn't have been. He'd had sex like he'd known he'd never experience on the Upper East Side. Her blank face and skilled hands had felt like liberation. (They'd felt wrong, and he'd forced himself to revel in it).

"What are you doing in New York?"

She seemed oblivious to his displeasure as she sank down next to him. "I find nice man to look after me."

"I'll bet."

She looked at him from between her lashes. "You know you can't afford me now."

"Sure."

She laughed and crossed her legs so that he could see just how short her skirt was. He was reminded of a blonde doing the same thing in Santorini, a night tangled in the sheets and guilt, guilt, guilt that he'd drowned in sex and more alcohol till he felt nothing.

The singer finished her last song.

He got to his feet without a glance back. The singer was already winking at him, beckoning him to her. An American stranger. That was what he needed. That was _exactly_ what he needed.

* * *

"Chuck."

Bart was already sitting down, menu open, as he raised an eyebrow at his son.

"You're late."

Chuck was late because he hadn't assumed that his father would bother turning up on time. The man never did usually. He took his seat now, forcing a smile. "Sorry. Traffic." Bart had selected the same oak-panelled restaurant that William van der Bilt frequented so much; Chuck wondered, drily, if it had been intentional. It was then that he noticed the other place set at the table. He frowned, glancing at his father. "Are we expecting someone else?"

Bart's mouth curved. "We are."

But before Chuck could ask who, exactly, his father had got to his feet.

Chuck turned - and stilled. Because Lily van der Woodsen had just walked into the restaurant. Lily was approaching them - and she was _smiling_ at Bart. Smiling at him. Chuck stared; because this couldn't be happening. There was no way.

Lily stopped to kiss Bart's cheek and Chuck felt sicker and sicker. Then Lily was turning to him, warmly. "Charles." He managed to recover himself enough to let her kiss him too. How? How was this even possible?

He looked between the two of them once they were finally all seated. Lily opposite his father. "So," he attempted. "You two are...?" He was half praying that they'd fill in the blank with _friends. Acquaintances. _But he knew better.

Lily's hand slid over Bart's and he had the sudden urge to throw up. "I told Eric and Serena earlier today - but I wanted to tell you myself, Charles." There was a special tone that Lily had always used to speak to him - soft and half-amused, almost the same way she spoke to her own children. Like she genuinely would have wanted him as her son in-law. She'd told him, after Serena had left, that she still considered him part of her family.

Chuck had been the one to distance himself.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked at last. He somehow kept his voice light.

Lily exchanged a glance with Bart. "Well, your father was very supportive after Serena left." She cleared her throat. "There weren't many people offering much support after...after it all came out." An affair with a married congressman, a jilted engagement, a runaway daughter? The only thing people would have offered was judgement. Or questions, so that they had even more material for gossip. "And I have to admit that Bart was the last person, considering, that I expected to-"

"I think Chuck's aware of just how much trouble one child can cause for a parent," Bart intercut. "I told you I never blamed you, Lily. Or Serena." He smiled. A cold smile that didn't reach his eyes - and Chuck could only watch, appalled, as Lily smiled back.

"But we didn't want to tell anyone until we were sure that..."

"That it was serious," Chuck finished for her. Bile rose in his throat, but he prepared himself for the next question. "So, it's serious then?"

Lily beamed. And then Chuck saw it. The large diamond that gleamed on the fourth finger of her left hand. Oh, no. No no no. "Your father flew back from Europe this morning to propose." Her hand rested for a moment on Chuck's arm, and the diamond glittered coldly in the restaurant's light. "It looks like we're going to be family after all, Charles."

Chuck's jaw was clenched behind his smile. No, no, no. "Congratulations." Lily and Bart were talking to each other now, but their conversation blurred past him. He needed a scotch. Fast. But more importantly - he needed Blair.

* * *

Serena was drunk. Serena was exactly the kind of drunk she needed to be - exactly the kind of drunk that only Georgie made her. The other guests at the Palace bar were looking sideways at the two girls as they downed Manhattan after Gimlet after Harpoon. The sickly sweet alcohol had just the dizzying kick that Serena needed. She needed to be _happy_. Happy, happy, happy.

Happy enough not to even think about Blair or Nate or Chuck who was about to be her goddamn _stepbrother. _Happy enough not to think about her mother, who had so casually announced over brunch that she was marrying_ Bart Bass_. Happy enough not to think about her own gut reaction to the news - which had been to call Blair. She hadn't called Blair, anyway. She'd called Georgie instead.

Which was a much better choice.

She wouldn't be this drunk if Blair was here. (She'd probably be curled in Blair's bed, eating macaroons after a full day of hitting Bendels). But Blair wasn't her friend any more and Serena didn't care because she was drunk and happy.

Because tonight she got to be Savannah Tonight Serena van der Woodsen didn't exist, and what a relief that was. Tonight she was Savannah with a Southern drawl and all men's eyes on her. They were always on her - she didn't even notice them. Serena loved her life. She loved it. She loved bars and she loved miniskirts and she loved cocktails and she loved Georgie.

"I love you, Georgie!"

(I love you, B!)

The two suited men who'd been drooling over them - accountants? Lawyers? Serena couldn't remember - exchanged confused glances. "Who's Georgie?"

Georgie smirked. She gave the blonde a look. "Don't you mean Svetlana?"

Serena just giggled. "Yeah. Sure." She twirled on her barstool, golden hair cascading down her back. She and Georgie had been moving from bar to bar all day - Georgie had been the one to suggest the Palace. _Maybe you'll run into your new daddy. Your fiance turned brother._ And Serena had laughed and drank and drank. Why not?

But she should have known that there was only one person she'd run into here. One person who was always here and would still never admit it. The laughter died on Serena's lips, because Blair was standing in the doorway of the bar. Blair. She'd obviously been on her way through the foyer and up to a certain someone's room. Serena wondered if she'd been laughing loud enough that the brunette had heard. Why else would she stop here?

Georgie had spotted her too. And there was a wicked grin on her lips as she stood up. "Well, well. Snow White!"

Serena thought, through her haze of alcohol, that the name Blair hated so much had never seemed more apt. Skin white as snow, hair black as ebony, lips red as blood. Standing there framed in the bar's low light, so perfect and pure and as untouchable as the Snow White in the fairytale book the two of them had always used to read. Harold used to read it to Blair and Blair used to read it to Serena because she didn't have a daddy. Except Blair wasn't perfect and pure because she was on her way to see Chuck, and Serena was pretty sure Snow White would never have sold out any of the eight dwarves. Or six? Seven? Fairytales had always been Blair's thing anyway.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Georgie was enquiring.

Serena tried too late to catch her arm, to tell her to sit down and ignore Blair. Forget her. Blair was busy anyway. And the _last_ thing Serena wanted to do was talk to her.

Georgie wouldn't listen anyway because Georgie never listened - she couldn't be controlled, and that was why Serena liked her so much. Georgie was the opposite of Blair in every way.

Blair, meanwhile, had fixed Georgie a cold look. "I obviously don't need to ask what you're doing here."

Georgie laughed and ignored her. "Can you just stop stalking Serena?" It was tossed out carelessly. "I know it's hard to kick a habit of a lifetime, but..."

The other brunette's eyes slanted back. "What are you doing in the city, Georgie? Sold your show pony for acid again?"

That earned Blair another grin. "Serena called me, actually. I guess she got bored of your good-girl act. Can't say I blame her," Georgie added. "So before your start on your little tirade to try and drag Serena out of here and ruin all our fun - just remember that Serena wants to be here. And," her her tone grew condescending, "There's nothing you can do about it."

Serena's eyes met Blair's across the bar.

And Blair had to fight the urge that had risen inside her. The tirade, dragging her best friend home. Because Serena had made it quite clear that they weren't friends any more. She wasn't Blair's best friend to protect or defend any more, and she didn't want to be.

Georgie followed her gaze. "Look, Snow White. The night hasn't even started yet. I suggest you go home."

Blair's jaw tightened. She shoved past Georgina and headed towards the blonde who was practically falling off her bar-stool and into the eager hands of not one but two men. "Serena." Her tone was cool. "Is this really a good idea?"

It took a moment for those blue eyes to focus on her. "What?"

"Georgina." Blair practically grit her teeth. "You know she's bad news."

At that, Serena laughed. "So you're here to judge me again? Of course you are." She shook her head. "You know what, B? At least Georgie never did what you did. And I want a friend who knows how to have a good time with me - not one who only knows how to_ tell_ on me," the words were slurring, "Who only knows how to _betray_ me."

Blair could see Georgie's grin broadening out of the corner of her eye. She took a sharp breath. "Serena-"

"I'm sorry." Serena shrugged. "I have no idea who you're talking about. I'm Savannah." And with that, she turned away. "You know what I want?" It was addressed to Georgie and not to Blair. "A martini."

"A dirty one?" Georgie prodded with evident glee.

Serena kept her back to Blair. "A _dirty_ one."

And her laughter, mingled with Georgie's, rang in Blair's ears as she walked out of the bar.

* * *

Bart had left the table because someone had called through to the restaurant with a message for him. Of course. Work didn't wait for something as trivial as eating.

Lily looked at Chuck now. Now that it was just the two of them. "So." She tilted her head over her wine glass, knowing. "You've been very quiet. Is everything ok?"

"Of course."

Lily caught his arm across the table. "Charles." She released a breath. "Look, I know that this is probably a lot for you to take in. Serena," her mouth turned, wry, "Left as soon as I told her. And even Eric seemed to find it hard to understand. The only reason your father and I kept it a secret was because we didn't want to upset any of you."

Chuck's smile was tight. "I'm sure." He highly doubted_ that_ had been Bart's motivation.

"I'm sorry," Lily sighed. "I'm truly sorry, Charles, for what happened with you and Serena."

But Lily had always known he and Serena were never in love. "It's not your fault," Chuck murmured. It might have been his and Blair's - except the only real person to blame for any of this was Bart. Chuck watched Lily now. "I just don't understand," he said, at last.

"I know the idea of your father and me-"

"I can accept the idea of you being together," Chuck cut her off quietly. "I know you were ten years ago."

Lily went still. "You...know. I see." She paused. "How did you, uh...?"

He'd found out through his own investigation. The investigating that he and Blair had done because Bart's insistence that he propose to Serena hadn't even made sense, really, from a business point of view. Because there had been heiresses far more wealthy than Serena - because Bart had wanted to close a deal with Russell Thorpe and he'd still never suggested Chuck go after Raina to close it. So why go to all that effort just for the van der Woodsens?

"I know why it ended."

Lily blinked. She took a large, slow gulp of her wine. "I see." She shifted in her seat. She seemed to be counting to ten internally, working out how to go about answering him. "Look, Charles," she stared eventually. "I don't want to lie - not to you. And I'm sure that you're worried about your father. But he's forgiven me, and we've moved past it. It was a very long time ago now." She held Chuck's hand, and Chuck wished she could realise just how wrong she was. Bart, forgive? Move past _anything_? "I'm never going to hurt him like that again."

Chuck's hand was cold in hers as he nodded. "Ok."

He wished that she would.

* * *

Chuck's suite was empty when Blair reached it - so he was still with Bart. Whatever was happening couldn't be anything good, she reflected wearily. They'd agreed to meet here at ten because even two hours was pushing the amount of time Bart could uphold a conversation with his son.

But it was already half past.

She stood for a moment in the darkened room, breathing in the familiar smell. An empty liquor glass sat on the bar - she could just see the imprint of his mouth on it. The truth was that she loved Chuck's suite. She'd spent hours scheming here. Hours on Chuck's bed even before they'd started sleeping together. She'd had her first taste of real alcohol here, her first glass of scotch, tried her first cigarette (and announced that it would be her last). Here was the one place she came to escape.

She remembered camping out here for almost a week when she was thirteen and Chuck had measles. She'd already caught them once, and he didn't have a Dorota or a Harold to feed him soup or hold a cold flannel to his forehead. Eleanor had been in Paris again, and Harold hadn't had the heart to stop her.

Chuck had spent the whole of the first day refusing to speak to her and growling at her to go home. She'd ignored him. Because he was being ridiculous and because there was nothing Blair Waldorf loved more than the idea of having a patient to boss around. She'd put on the radio, made him listen to all of her favourite programmes and favourite songs. Ella Fitzgerald and Doris Day. And she'd fallen asleep next to him, woken to the feel of his burning skin against hers. Brushed the hair, black and damp with sweat, off his fevered forehead.

It was the first time he'd looked at her, properly, since she'd started going steady with Carter.

And in that moment it had just been the two of them. For just a week they'd been kids again; she'd been tucked away in his suite and her fear of losing Carter's attention, and all the girls Chuck had kissed, and absent Eleanor and absent Bart hadn't mattered. She'd slept in his bed and it hadn't been wrong or uncomfortable or indecent because the only thing that had mattered was that he was sick and he needed someone. He needed her. Blair _needed_ to be needed. And for a week, he hadn't pushed her away with scotch and cigars and a leer. She got to be Blair, and he got to be Chuck.

Then he'd got better. And Carter had showed up to drag him out, flowers for Blair in one hand - and Chuck had climbed out of bed, got dressed and told her he didn't need her pity any more. They'd gone to one of Georgie's parties that night, and Blair had danced with Carter and Chuck had slept with Georgie. And then he definitely hadn't been a kid any more.

Blair's nails dug into her palm now. God, she hated Georgie. She'd been pretty disgusted that Chuck had lost his virginity to her at the time - but she hadn't realised just how bad Georgina Sparks was until Serena had started hanging around with her. And then it was like Serena became a different person. Not just _Savannah - _but a girl who only cared about having fun and didn't give a damn what damage she did to have it. That was the problem. Blair had never cared less what damage Serena did to other people on her wild nights; but the only real damage she ended up doing was to herself.

And Blair wanted to grab her and shake her and scream at her for being so stupid, for putting herself in situations so dangerous, for wasting even a second of her time with scum like Georgina Sparks. And yes - yes, jealously had always boiled inside her every time she saw Serena laughing with Georgie, every time she saw how much _fun_ they had together.

Blair didn't make Serena twirl on tabletops. Blair was always the one dragging her down from the tabletops. Blair didn't make Serena laugh so loud the entire hotel heard. Blair was always the one telling Serena to keep her voice down, covering up for her when everyone stared. Blair didn't get Serena drunk enough to throw up all over her Chanel. Blair was always the one cleaning up her Chanel.

But she'd always been the only person who did any of those things. The only person Serena let do any of those things. Just like she was the only person Chuck let take care of him when he was sick - she was _needed_. She didn't know how to drink scotch with Chuck, didn't know how to down martinis with Serena, didn't know how to forget herself or go crazy or go too far. But she knew how to be Blair Waldorf and she knew how to look after them. She knew how to look after Serena van der Woodsen and Chuck Bass and that wasn't something any one else could claim.

(She'd used to fantasize that she was the only girl who could claim to be loved by Carter Baizen, only she knew that wasn't true anymore). But the other thing _was_. She did know how to look after Serena - and that was never going to change, no matter how much the blonde wanted it to. Just because Serena decided she didn't care didn't mean that Blair had stopped. And Blair wasn't going to stop until Georgie was out of town and Serena was out of danger.

She glanced at the clock. It was almost quarter to eleven now. She ignored the delicious familiarity of Chuck's bed and headed for the telephone that sat on his desk instead. Because Serena wasn't the only thing she had to worry about - and this, she could do something for. It would be almost five in the morning in Paris. Blair knew enough about her mother's routine to know that she'd have taken a valium to sleep on the plane, and would be up and ready for her first meeting right about now. Which meant that it was the best time to call.

Time, Blair reflected grimly, to rip off the band-aid.

She picked up the glossy black receiver and slid the dial round for the international switchboard. She'd always used Chuck's suite on the rare occasions that she needed to contact her mother abroad; hotel to hotel tended to have the best connection.

Eleanor did not sound pleased to hear from her when she finally got through. "Blair? What now?"

Blair was very aware of the fact that she was probably about to make her mother even more stressed. But if she didn't tell her, then Eleanor would be far angrier when she eventually did find out. "It's about the Baizens, mother."

"What?" The line was crackly as ever. "I don't have time for more sulking about that fool-"

Blair kept her patience. "Edward Baizen left Waldorf Designs ten percent of his company." She waited for the explosion. It didn't come.

"Is that all?" Eleanor snapped instead.

"Mother?" Blair frowned. Goddamn international calls. "Did you hear me? I said-"

"I heard you, Blair. I'm not deaf." There was a pause while her mother hissed something at someone in the background - no doubt a terrified assistant. "What's your point?"

Blair couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Edward Baizen -" She stopped. There was only one reason Eleanor could possibly be so calm about this. "Wait. Did you already know?"

"Of course I did," Eleanor sighed exasperatedly. "I'm the one who arranged for it."

For a moment, Blair just stared at the receiver. "_What_?"

"I made a deal with Edward shortly after his son ran away." Eleanor sounded dismissive. "He signed a contract."

"But-" Blair was practically speechless. "But I thought you didn't want anything to do with the Baizens?" She'd been told enough times. Why on earth would Eleanor accept _anything_ from him? Let alone be the one to organise the whole thing?

"I don't," her mother responded irritably. "Honestly, Blair, I really don't have time for this-"

"Mother." Blair's teeth were ground. "What is going on?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake." Eleanor spat at whichever assistant it was to get out (_and don't come back until you have those samples!) _before finally sparing her daughter an impatient sigh. "Edward Baizen was supposed to be the one taking my company public. Do you know how much of my time and money was wasted after I had to pull out of our deal because I discovered he wasn't even capable of controlling his own son? Do you know how many times your father has represented Edward Baizen - not to mention given him free legal advice - based on the promise that we were all going to be _family_ one day? That ten percent is nothing more than we were owed." There was a pause, and then - "If you take one more step towards me with that _gingham_, Jean-Pierre, then I'm sending you straight back to the banlieue!"

There was a stream of French pleas in the background that Blair attempted to interrupt. "Mother-"

"Anyway," Eleanor carried on as though she hadn't heard. "Your father and I discussed this at the time - the ten percent it for you."

Blair stiffened. No. No way. "But it says it's for Waldorf Designs-"

"And do you or do you not want to inherit Waldorf Designs one day?" Eleanor huffed. "Look, I need to go."

"But I don't want it."

"What?" Eleanor demanded. "Don't be ridiculous. I need to go. I'm surrounded by _incompetents_..." There was a click, and then the line went dead.

Blair didn't want it. She didn't _want_ -

"Don't want what?"

She jumped at the voice. Chuck was standing in the doorway, regarding her. His eyebrow was cocked.

"I assume that was the lovely Eleanor?"

"Unfortunately," Blair muttered.

Chuck had already crossed the room to her, shrugging his jacket off. He took the receiver from her grasp and hung up as he pulled her into his arms. His lips sought her jaw, hungry. "So what did she want?"

"Nothing." Blair exhaled. "I was just calling to tell her something about Givenchy."

Chuck glanced at her pale face. It wasn't the face of a Blair who'd just been talking about Givenchy. His fingers caressed her waist, trapping her to him. "What about him?"

Blair shook her head. "He...sent flowers. I just wanted to let her know. So that she could thank him when she saw him." But her eyes didn't match her mouth. "Anyway," she pressed on. They had far more important things to worry about. "How was your dinner?" Chuck's shoulders were tense. So she'd been right - whatever it was hadn't been good.

Sure enough, he paused. But he carried on stroking the small of her back and his lips covered hers, cutting off her breath. She kissed him back for a few moments, and her arms slid around his neck as her eyes closed. Then she pushed at his chest. "Chuck."

"First things first." His mouth twisted a little. "I think we're going to need a drink." She gave him a look, but he was already guiding her towards his minibar. "Trust me. You will too."

* * *

The glass came dangerously close to shattering in Blair's hand.

"_What_?"

They'd been sitting on the plush sofa - but she stood up now. And she'd already started to pace, voice high.

"This can't be happening."

"It's happening." Chuck rubbed his temples. "She had a ring. They were _holding hands_." He grimaced at the memory.

"No." Blair shook her head. "No." Lily and Bart couldn't be together. Lily couldn't be playing into his hands that easily. She couldn't. Because if she was, if they were engaged and it was that simple, then everything Chuck and Blair had done - everything _Blair_ had done -

She froze.

Chuck looked at her. "What?"

"They got together because of Serena? Because Bart was so supportive?"

The disgust on Chuck's face was evident. "So they say."

"Then..." Blair had stopped pacing. And that, to Chuck, was far worse. She sat down. Slowly. "Then what I did helped him." Betraying Serena had _helped_ Bart. It hadn't protected her at all. Blair laughed in hollow disbelief. "I _helped_ him."

"Blair," Chuck muttered. _They_ had helped him.

"I helped him."

She didn't know how to look after Serena. She didn't. All she knew how to do was betray. Stab her best friend in the back, destroy her reputation and get her thrown out of town - and all for nothing. All of it for less than nothing, because all it had done was _help_ Bart. All it had done was weaken the van der Woodsens and leave them even more vulnerable to his plans.

Why the hell hadn't she thought about that?

She didn't even know how to _scheme_ properly any more.

"Waldorf."

She shook her head. Blair Waldorf was Serena van der Woodsen's best friend. And that was no longer something she could claim to be. She'd told herself this whole time that it had been necessary, that it had been for something -

She didn't realise that Chuck had closed the space between them on the sofa until she felt the hard heat of his hands on her wrists. He turned her forcefully to him.

"Bart hasn't won, and we're not going to let him."

She shook her head.

"Blair."

And finally, she drew a deep breath, eyes meeting his. He was telling her to pull herself together. And he was right, she knew. He was right. "No," she murmured. She shut her eyes and then opened them. Locked on his. "We're not."

* * *

They didn't make it to bed till gone three.

Early morning light streaked into his suite, just illuminating her face. She was curled against his chest. Her skin was pale - and he wished he could believe it was just a result of staying up half the night strategising. She'd finally fallen asleep, though she'd tossed and turned till he'd dragged her to him to stop her movement.

It was uncomfortably hot now and he hardly noticed.

She stirred, her hand brushing against his stomach where it was trapped between them.

"Chuck." Her voice was thick with sleep. She shifted against him. "Go to sleep." Her cheek was stuck to the silk of his pyjama shirt. He could have counted her eyelashes.

"Mm."

She groaned under her breath and her body pressed closer, one leg sliding between his. Her fingers grasped at silk. Cool and familiar in her half-conscious state.

It stirred in his memory, unwilling, her body underneath his on his desk at the office.

They'd been so occupied with thoughts of Bart and Lily that his little slip from earlier had been all but forgotten. Three words that he'd rather not remember anyway.

Her hair was soft under his chin as he gazed up at the ceiling. "What were you really talking to Eleanor about?"

Her fingers tightened in her sleep. "...What?"

"Don't lie."

He felt her eyelashes flutter against him. "Nothing." She buried close enough that all he could think about was the heat of her body and tightness of her grip. Her voice was a muffled sigh against his chest. "Nothing that maters."

* * *

Carter lay on his back.

The sex should have been good. The singer was beautiful and supple and tall and copper-haired and nothing like anyone else.

But he'd had to get up halfway through to throw up. Not exactly a great turn-on. He'd taken girls home by the dozen when he was abroad and never had anything quite so disgusting happen to him. He decided it had to be the whiskey. That was what he got for going to shitty bars with shitty singers and shitty prostitutes that should just stay in their goddamn countries.

There had been disgust on the singer's face as he'd thrown her out.

(But it was nothing like hers).

And maybe, maybe it was time to finally admit that he couldn't run any more.

* * *

**A/N - Thanks so much for all of your reviews last chapter! I'm so glad to hear people didn't mind the ILY :) **


	12. Chapter 12

The sleek car that drew up outside the Limelight coffeehouse was decidedly incongruous with its surroundings. The paint and large arty posters tacked to brick walls, the overwhelming smell of marijuana and the young men and women slouched in black with big boots and messy hair. The door of the car opened and a young man stepped out, suit immaculate, followed by a young woman with her trench coat buttoned right to the top. They exchanged a glance of faint revulsion. Steeled themselves.

And then headed, of all places, into the coffeehouse.

"Vanessa, can you do table three?"

The manager only just got the question out through the haze of his roll-up. He grinned at her, blinking behind thick glasses. Vanessa rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Sure."

Table three were involved in a heated discussion about spiritualism.

"No, man - it was a real experience. I swear. I've never felt more in touch with myself - it just makes you realise, you know? All this material shit. None of it matters."

The guy in the flawless suit winced as though in physical pain.

"Yeah, man! Totally. We just need to give up all this material shit. Get out, you know? See the world. All we need are the shirts on our backs. No money. No cars. Just travel, you know?"

The girl in the trench coat pulled a face of pure disgust.

Vanessa, meanwhile, was too busy taking down the table's orders to notice the well-dressed couple or their disdain. _I stood in the dirt where ev'ryone walked, _Bob Dylan sang over a scratchy record player.

"How apt."

And at that, Vanessa spun round. Oh, no. Hell no. "What are you doing here?" she demanded. Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf could _not_ be in her coffeeshop. "Get out."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Do you call that customer service?"

"I know this is Brooklyn," Chuck agreed, "But still." They both regarded her disapprovingly.

Vanessa glared back. "Don't you have other innocent lives to ruin? Puppies to kick?"

"You don't keep puppies in penthouses," Chuck explained with great patience. "Surely your little camera picked that up on your brief tour of civilization?"

And, before Vanessa could open her mouth to argue - "Anyway." Blair smiled at her. "You weren't exactly innocent, were you?" She waved a hand. "And you live...well, here. There wasn't really much of a life to ruin."

Vanessa's face screwed up in anger. "Because of you I lost my best friend. I lost my job in the gallery, I lost the people that I considered my _family_-"

"Yes yes," Blair sighed. "Maybe you could turn it into a country song. You never know - if it does well, you could buy yourself some new shoes." Her gaze lingered for a moment on Vanessa's...sandals. Were they _sandals? _The dark shirt - clearly a man's - tied to show bare midriff, the _pants_, the corkscrew curls spilling out of that bandanna, the..._feathers _that Vanessa had obviously mistaken for earrings - it really was all too much. "Hm."

"And we are truly sorry." Chuck bared his teeth. "That Rufus Humphrey chose not to leave his wife for you."

"We can't imagine why," Blair added. "We were rooting for you. Really."

"Just get _out_." Vanessa folded her arms. "Now. I know you think you own the planet when you're in the Upper East Side, but this is Brooklyn. And these guys?" She gestured round the cafe, "_Hate_ people like you. So unless you want them to throw you out-"

"Please," Blair chuckled. "As if anyone here could gear their drug-addled mind into doing anything." She and Chuck shared looks of amusement at the mere concept. "Besides, we can't leave yet. We haven't told you our business proposal."

Vanessa stared in disbelief. "Are you serious? You think I'm going to listen to _anything_ from you two?"

"Oh, I think you'll want to listen to this," Chuck assured her.

"Your rent's due next month, isn't it?" Blair smirked, sweetly. "Tell me, how _are_ you managing to pay for a whole loft on one pathetic coffee shop's wages?"

"That's none of your business," Vanessa snarled. "And I'd rather be homeless than touch a single cent-"

"Yes," Blair rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you could go on a _lovely_ spiritual quest with Brooklyn's vermin population. I mean the rats," she added for clarification. "Not the people. Though I'm sure it's hard to tell the difference at times." She spared a glance for the couple to her left, who smelt distinctly unwashed. Ugh.

"If you don't get out right now-"

"Vanessa?" It was her manager, a look of vague concern on his face. "Is everything, uh, cool?"

Vanessa opened her mouth to tell him that the evil, arrogant pair before her needed to be barred effective immediately - but Blair beat her to it. "Actually, we were just reminiscing about a good friend of ours. Rufus Humphrey?"

"We were," Chuck chimed in. "We were just saying how nice it would be if he were to visit. Especially given how close he and Vanessa were."

As expected, that shut Vanessa up fast. She gave them looks of absolute hatred - both of them smiled back serenely.

"Do you think we could borrow Vanessa for a bit? We need to catch up." But Blair wasn't really listening for a reply from the manager, because Vanessa would be leaving with them regardless of what he said.

"Uh..." he shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

Blair and Chuck grinned. Vanessa glowered. But she had no choice other than to follow the two of them out of the coffeehouse, aflame with self-righteous loathing and anger. She hated the Upper East Side. But most of all, she hated Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf.

* * *

Carter ran a hand through his hair as he stepped into the late morning sunlight. It felt stifling hot already, even for Brooklyn. He hadn't slept last night after the singer had left - this was the last time, he decided, that he was going to stay in a crappy Brooklynite motel. He had a pounding headache as he sauntered along the street in search of a decent cafe.

And then he came to a stop outside some coffeehouse.

Because _Blair_ was standing on the sidewalk. Blair Waldorf, in Brooklyn. (Carter Baizen did not believe in fate. He didn't). And she was standing with Chuck Bass, the only other person Carter would least expect to venture into the lower boroughs. What the hell were they doing here? It could only be some kind of scheme. They looked deep in conversation with a curly black-haired beatnik; Carter drew close enough to catch their final words.

"...Do we have an agreement?"

The girl (whoever she was) didn't look very happy, but she nodded. "Fine. Can you let me get back to my job now? Some of us actually _work_."

"We'll call you when you're needed."

There was an edge of smugness to Blair's tone that spelt out a deal well made. Chuck glanced up, equally satisfied, as the Brooklynite stomped back into the coffeehouse - and it was then that his eyes met Carter's. His scowl was instant. Great. Just great. That was all they needed. Why did Carter Baizen have to be _here_, of all places?

"You could at least pretend to look happy to see me," Carter drawled.

Blair turned too, at that. And she definitely wasn't pretending to look happy to see him. "What are you doing here?" she asked icily. He stood in direct contrast to Chuck, shirt creased and open and hair ruffled. He looked like someone who'd spent the night with a girl and a bottle of scotch. Blair forced away the memory of a time when the thought would have driven her insane with insecurity.

"I could ask you the same question," Carter pointed out. His mouth twitched. "You do know you're in Brooklyn? Or has Bass's driver finally gone senile?"

Both of them seemed to bristle at the the implied insult to Arthur. "Are you looking for friends to travel with?" Chuck sneered back. He nodded disdainfully at the coffeehouse. "Because your people are in there, Kerouac."

Carter rolled his eyes. He ignored the other guy to glance at Blair instead. He wondered if she could have buttoned her trench coat any tighter. And there was a stab of fondness with the thought that almost crept into his voice. "Have you spoken to Eleanor yet?" he asked. Clearly the best course of action was to act as though Bass wasn't even there.

Blair, however, was very aware of Chuck staring at her between narrowed eyes. She cleared her throat. "Yes," she said, tightly. "She knew."

"What?" Carter raised a brow in incredulity.

"She knew," Blair snapped. "I'm arranging a meeting with your lawyers." She'd figured out what to do last night, in all of her and Chuck's scheming - she was going to liquidate her shares. And then give the money to Vanessa so that she'd uphold her end of the deal. The dirty cash could stay where it belonged. With trash. Blair wasn't owed _money_ - what she was owed was a clean break. She was owed the chance to forget Carter Baizen and have nothing more to do with him. She was owed the opportunity to have people stop feeling pity for her, stop thinking she relied on Carter for everything - and especially her future.

Carter regarded her. "What's going on, Blair?"

The way he said her name made Chuck feel sick.

"What's going on is that we're in the middle of the street, and it's not the place to discuss this." Blair channelled her best Eleanor Waldorf as she pulled herself upright. "I'll let your lawyers know when I'm available."

"Ok," Carter murmured at last. He cocked his head at her. "I'll see you there."

Blair was about to inform him that his presence would _not_ be required - but he left before she got the chance. And Chuck knew damn well that he'd done that deliberately.

Silence fell between the two of them as they stood on the street.

"So." Chuck threw her just one glance, and the jealousy that choked at his throat - the loathing for Carter Baizen - almost made it impossible to speak. It seethed. "I guess your phone call with Eleanor wasn't nothing."

He moved to his car without looking back at her.

* * *

"Chuck."

They'd finally pulled up outside of the Waldorf penthouse (after the longest silent car ride either of them had ever experienced) and he'd been about to let her out of the car. Still without looking at her.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" He sounded quite calm and she hated him for it - because she could see the knuckles clenched on his lap. The set of his jaw.

"Stop ignoring me. You're acting like a child." It was the most spiteful thing she could think of saying.

He just looked at her for a moment. "So what are you seeing Baizen's lawyers for?" he asked flatly. "Divorce proceedings? Did you forget that you never actually got married?"

She ignored the deliberate sting. "You don't get to be mad at _me_ for withholding information, not when you didn't even tell me he was back." She glared at him. "And I'm seeing the lawyers about a deal between my mother and Edward Baizen, so it _is_ nothing, and it has nothing to do with you-"

"If it's nothing," Chuck cut her off, cold, "Then why was did you keep it such a big secret? Why bother lying?" Because Blair only lied about the things that mattered. The things she cared about.

Why, Blair wondered, did Carter Baizen still get to ruin her life? She and Chuck should have spent this car journey celebrating the successful completion of phase one of their plan. Right now Chuck should be following her up to her apartment for more scheming and more sex. She _hadn't_ been lying - it was nothing because they had far more important things to worry about. "Because," she bit back at last. "You really think I want to talk about Carter Baizen? You think I even want to _think_ about him? I don't. The only thing we should be thinking about right now is Lily and Bart."

Chuck was silent. No. No, they didn't talk about Carter and they didn't think about Carter because if they did then Blair would actually have to face up to her feelings. And so would Chuck. She was fine as long as she could pretend Carter Baizen didn't exist. As long as she could pretend that her meltdown that first summer hadn't happened. As long as they could both act like Carter Baizen hadn't been the love of her life and he hadn't broken her heart. Blair didn't let herself think about it. And Chuck kissed her and fucked her and helped her, and refused to think about it either.

"You're right," he muttered.

And he saw the relief on her face. "So, can we go upstairs and get back to business?" She smiled, the smile that usually spiked his heartbeat and had him reaching for her in seconds. "I had Dorota prepare us brunch..." Strawberries and cream. She was definitely looking forward to sharing those with him.

But he held her off. "I need to do some more surveillance. And we should both wash off the Brooklyn."

Her eyes searched his face, unable to believe it. "Oh." She glanced away to hide her disappointment. "Fine." There was a rising snap to her tone as she reached for the car door. "Then I guess I'll just drink the champagne by myself."

She slammed the door behind her.

* * *

Chuck got back to the Palace - in an admittedly foul mood - to find a still drunk blonde being helped out of the hotel's bar. He stopped, sighing. "Serena."

The bartender attempting to get her on her feet looked up in relief. "You know this girl, Mr. Bass? Only she's lost her purse and her shoes, and we can't seem to get a coherent word out of her-"

For a moment Chuck was so irritated that he was almost tempted to let him throw her out on the street. They were trying so hard to protect Serena and they still couldn't protect her from herself. He'd been thrown out of bars enough times. And when he was, there was a inevitably a brunette to roll her eyes and pick him up and hold back his hair while he vomited. The same brunette who would be horrified to see Serena in such a mess.

"I'll take care of it."

He grabbed the blonde - an act that Blair had done many times before - and supported her, half-stumbling, to the elevator.

Jesus.

* * *

"Miss Blair?" Dorota was hovering, plate of strawberries in hand. "Maybe you should eat-"

"No." Blair's tone was perfectly even as she ignored her maid. "I told you to throw it all away. So throw it away."

Dorota sighed and set the plate down. "If plan not work, Miss Blair-"

"It worked." Blair was engrossed in a large blue leather bound address book. If she had Chuck's hotel directory at the expense, she thought savagely, then this process would be a lot faster. But she wasn't going anywhere near the Basstard. She hoped he was _scrubbing_ the Brooklyn off him. In a cold shower. All by himself. "And now I have to focus on other plans," she announced. Plans like Georgina Sparks. She smiled, briefly, at the maid - and it was colder than ice. "I have a bitch to run out of town."

* * *

Chuck was indeed taking a cold shower. But he wasn't all by himself.

"Get off me," Serena mumbled as he tried to hold her under stream of water. His shirt was soaked and ruined - he had no idea how Blair had used to do this. Usually he and Nate helped pick Serena up off the bar floor and provided the food and pills while Blair did all the showering. And he was sure the last time _he'd_ got this drunk, he'd just let Blair wash him. In fact, he had a vague memory of her climbing into the bathtub with him, and of holding onto her her - definitely not pushing her away. There was no way now that he was climbing into the bathtub with Serena. Not when her arms were flailing everywhere. They'd probably end up cracking their heads open on the porcelain tub after she pulled them both down.

(And that would be a _great_ scenario for Blair to discover).

He somehow doubted when Lily had said she wanted them to be family that she'd intended for them to be the kind of siblings who bathed together.

"Serena," he snapped. "Will you just hold still?"

"I wanna get drunk," she was rambling. "I want to get really really drunk and be happy..."

"You said." Chuck's teeth were ground. "Several times." It must have been a blonde thing - only Nate and Serena got this repetitive when they were so far gone.

"I want Blair," Serena wailed. "You're not Blair."

Chuck gave her a look of frustration. "Do you want me to call Blair?" he enunciated very slowly. Because he knew that however pissed off she was with him, if it was for Serena then Blair would be here at the drop of a hat.

"No," Serena gasped as some of the water tipped over her hair, "Don't call Blair. We're not friends. She'd not my friend."

They'd had this conversation several times too.

"Blair's not my friend," Serena sobbed. "She picked Chuck Bass over me. She doesn't love me anymore because I thought I was in love with Tripp van der Bilt, but I'm not. I know which van der Bilt I love. There's only been one van der Bilt I've ever loved-"

"William?" Chuck asked drily as he forced her under the shower head just long enough to shut her up.

"Nate," Serena spluttered when she emerged, water blurring her vision. "I love Nate."

Chuck assessed that she was clean enough - and slightly more sober - to finally give up on the shower attempt. Now he was just faced with trying to get her _out_ of the tub. She nearly collapsed on him, and was only saved from slipping on the tiles when he forced her to sit on the toilet. Blair, he decided, was without a doubt the strongest person he knew. (But then he'd always known that).

Serena snivelled as he wrapped a towel round her. "But he hates me and Blair hates me and even you hate me, and you're Chuck Bass." It ended in a miserable hiccough. And to think, Chuck had actually been grateful when she'd started talking because at least she was responsive.

"Chuck Bass," he rolled his eyes, "Will only hate you if you throw up on his-"

Serena heaved. And emptied her insides before he even had the chance to complete his sentence.

"Hundred dollar loafers," he finished grimly. He stared down at the disgusting mess now covering his once impeccable outfit. Serena groaned. Well, now he knew exactly how Blair had felt at Nate's party. "Thanks."

* * *

The shrill ring of the telephone disturbed Blair's search. She looked up, annoyed, as Dorota hurried to answer it for her. "Waldorf residence?" There was a pause. Then the maid glanced at her, covering the receiver. "Is for you, Miss Blair. Laurel say there is big crisis at the atelier?"

Blair repressed a noise of irritation. Of course there was. She knew enough from watching her mother to know that the fashion world had no concept of a weekend. But when, exactly, was she supposed to do her scheming? "Tell her I'm on the way." She was already reaching for her coat.

She cast one last look at the address book and then dragged her eyes away and headed for the door. Georgina would have to wait. Even though she didn't like the idea of that at all.

* * *

Chuck had finally managed to get Serena into bed. Thank God. She'd been snoring loudly as he'd headed into the bathroom for his third shower of the day. He was, quite frankly, worn out. And he was starting to sorely regret the decision not to just go home with Blair. He could have spent the afternoon licking cream off her body, instead of trying to wash vomit out of a drunken blonde's hair.

He could be in her bed right now, instead of watching said drunken blonde mess up the comforter of his own bed. At least her stomach was empty. Because if she ruined his silk sheets on top of everything else, then she was _definitely_ ending up on the streets.

"Blair?"

Serena moaned from the bed and attempted to sit up. But the room spun too much; she ended up back on the pillows. Was she in Chuck's suite? She'd assumed that the person who had cleaned her up and tucked her in had to be Blair. But that was impossible, she remembered.

"Chuck?"

"Yes," Chuck sighed. "It's me." For the hundredth time.

"What happened?" Serena sounded utterly disorientated.

He rolled his eyes and dropped down on the sofa opposite the bed. "Before or after you nearly got thrown out of my father's hotel?"

"Ughhhh." Serena shifted on the pillows as some of it came back to her. "Georgie."

Chuck arched a brow. Well, that explained the state she'd ended up in. Only Georgina Sparks had the ability to get her that drunk. "Georgie's back in town?"

"Mmph."

"How exactly did that happen?" he enquired.

"I invited her." The blonde's voice was muffled in the pillow. Oh, God. What had she done?

"At what point did you decide _that_ was a good idea?" Because they all knew Georgina Sparks was never a good idea. And he really thought Serena had figured that out by now. Although he guessed the real problem was that she had.

"Shut up," Serena mumbled back. "You sound like Blair."

Chuck paused, at that. "So Blair knows?"

"When does Blair ever not know anything?" came his groggy response. And then - "She was judging me last night. Probably took photos to give to the Times." She was dimly aware that _she_ sounded like Blair now.

"There were probably enough other people doing that," Chuck responded sardonically.

"Shut up, Chuck."

There was a silence as Serena got her bearings, and all the events of yesterday came flooding black. Oh, God. Now she remembered why she'd got quite so drunk. She waited until she felt like she could sit up without the room veering off tilt before sparing Chuck a glance.

"So did Bart tell you?"

"That he and Lily are madly in love?" Chuck's lip curled. "Unfortunately."

"And now we're all supposed to be some big happy family?" Serena shook her head. Chuck said nothing, and she decided that she needed to lie down again. She stared up at the ceiling in silence. "This is your fault," she murmured.

"You had the affair with Tripp, sunshine. Not me."

"But I wasn't the only one having an affair, was I?" She continued to stare up at the ceiling. "It's your fault." Her voice was hollow. "You made Blair love you more than she loved me."

"Blair doesn't love me." The response was immediate; and then he was furious with himself for even saying it. "Anyway," he scoffed to cover it up. "I know you're not clueless enough to actually believe she's stopped loving you."

"You don't betray the people you love," Serena answered softly.

"No." Chuck's tone came out brusque. "You protect them." If you were Blair Waldorf, then you protected them.

For a moment Serena looked as though she were about to question him. But then she shook her head again and went back to looking at the ceiling. "Blair's in love with you." It was resolute. "She's just too scared to admit it."

There was a knock at the door before Chuck could reply.

And he moved straight away to answer it, shoving past what the blonde had said. He sighed as he saw who was standing on the other side of the door. "Nate."

"Hey, man. I was just coming to see if you wanted to..." Nate's voice trailed off as he noticed the figure on Chuck's bed. "Oh, I'm sorry." He grinned a little. Till he actually saw who it was. And then he froze. "Serena?" He whirled on his best friend. "_Serena_? You-" It stirred inside him, the memory of the nausea at discovering someone he'd thought was one of his closest friends -

"Relax, Archibald." Chuck's voice leaked sheer exasperation. That was all he needed. A black eye to complete the day - which Nate looked seconds from giving him. "She pulled a Serena."

Nate paused. Then there was instant concern in his voice. "You mean-"

"I mean I just had to throw away one of my favourite suits," Chuck sighed. "Believe me," he grimaced, "I was not having sex with _that_."

Nate frowned.

"Actually," Chuck went on, "You couldn't have come at a better time."

His best friend looked at him blankly. "For what?"

"Babysitting," Chuck smirked back. "Or rather, drunksitting. I have an errand to run - so if you wouldn't mind?"

And before the blond could protest, Chuck had already pushed him into the suite in his place and shut the door in his face.

Leaving Nate to turn, helpless, to the girl who could only stare at him from the bed. Her hair was damp, he noticed. She worried on her lower lip.

"Hi."

Quietly, he took the seat next to the bed. "Hi."

* * *

Chuck was on his way to the concierge to hunt down the directory when a familiar drawl stopped him. No. Not _again_.

"Bass."

Carter Baizen was leant idly against the desk.

"Once might have been a coincidence," Chuck sneered, "But I think twice in one day is grounds for calling security." He gave the other man a look of dislike. "Get out of my hotel, Baizen."

Carter snorted. "Funny. I thought this was daddy's hotel, not yours." He moved up and off the desk, jerking his head in the direction of the woman behind it. "And the hotel called me."

Chuck glanced at the woman too. "Let me guess. You still haven't paid your tab."

"Actually," Carter responded, "You paid my tab with the handy ten thousand you gave me." He pulled a face. "But your incompetent staff are claiming two girls were in here last night who said that Carter Baizen would foot their bill."

Chuck couldn't resist a smirk. So maybe Georgina Sparks was useful for one thing. He'd almost forgotten that the girl had never forgiven Baizen for getting her shipped away four years ago, after she'd tried to frame him with her own drugs. "I didn't realise you were so generous."

Carter scowled. "I could sue this place."

"I'd like to see you try."

Carter's expression reflected equal dislike as he folded his arms. "So. What were you doing traipsing round Brooklyn this morning? Is that the only part of New York daddy will let you have?"

(More importantly, what had Blair been doing in Brooklyn?)

"Well," Chuck jeered back, "It's obviously the only part of New York any girl would consider sleeping with you." It was deliberate. Something hard flickered in Carter's eyes.

"Um, Mr. Baizen?" It was the woman behind the desk now, finally speaking up. "I'm sorry to rush you, but there's still the matter of this bill-?"

"That I won't be paying," Carter snapped. "What kind of a hotel, exactly-"

"It's all right, Peggy." Chuck interrupted. He gave the woman an easy smile, much to her relief. "I'll handle this." He turned back to Carter. "I'm feeling generous, Baizen, even if you're not. I'll waive the bill. But I want something in return."

Carter cocked his head. "And what's that?"

"I want the number of Georgina Sparks' parents. I know you used them to drive her out of town once."

That, Carter hadn't been expecting. He studied Chuck as the wheels in his mind turned. It had to be Blair. She obviously wanted Georgina gone - she wanted the number. "I don't have it on me."

"So you've stopped taking that little black book everywhere you go?" Chuck scorned. "Please."

"Sorry," Carter shrugged in answer. He didn't sound it in the slightest.

Chuck's eyes narrowed at him. Then he turned back to the concierge. "Peggy? I think you'd better double Mr. Baizen's bill for time wasting."

Carter glowered. "Fine," he snarled. "It's still your money, anyway." He tossed a wad of cash down on the desk and stalked out.

* * *

Blair forced aside her exhaustion as she stepped out of the taxi and headed towards her penthouse for the second time that day. The sun was already starting to sink. And she was starting to empathise with her mother when she'd said that she was surrounded by incompetents. Some snotty little intern had announced that she was withdrawing all of her designs because she hadn't got to sit in on the Givenchy meeting. Which wouldn't have been a problem, had Laurel not been stupid enough to actually use one of said intern's designs for their new line. Blair hadn't been at all surprised to discover that the intern was not only from Brooklyn and related to Rufus and Dan Humphrey, but had designed a dress that looked more like a shirt anyway. As if Givenchy - Givenchy! - would be interested in something like that?

She'd told_ Jenny_ that she could take her pathetic designs as far away from her mother's company as possible - after enquiring after the health of the girl's cradle-snatching father - and then started the time-consuming search for a new person to fill the spot. She'd eventually selected a young male designer, Calvin, who was at least past his apprenticeship stage. Calvin Klein, she'd decided, had a much better ring to it than Jenny Humphrey.

And with that all sorted she was free (at last) to get back to hunting down Georgina's parents.

Except when she got to the foyer she found Carter Baizen waiting for the elevator. He had his back to her - but she knew it was him. Of course it was. Because obviously her day hadn't been tiring enough already. Obviously she needed yet another distraction from her very important mission. Obviously being forced to see him in the morning wasn't enough - and obviously he couldn't just leave her alone for one goddamn second.

"Carter."

He turned in surprise. "Blair." He glanced at her. "I thought you'd be in."

"Well, I am now." She exhaled and he suddenly noticed how tired she looked. "What do you want, Carter?"

The question hung between them. And the truth was that he didn't want to know the answer. He hadn't wanted to come back, and he didn't want it all to go back to the way it had used to be. But he wanted - he needed - to set things straight. He wanted her to look at him like he was a person again. Like he deserved her love. He wanted - her. He wanted her, and it almost consumed him as he took in her pale face and the circles under her eyes. He wanted her to smile again. He wanted her to smile at him.

"Look." Blair shook her head. "I've arranged to see the lawyers tomorrow-"

"I'm not here about that."

"Then _what_?" Her voice rose. "Why can't you just stop? I don't want to see you, Carter. What part of that don't you understand? You were more than happy to disappear three years ago, so why can't you do me the same favour now?" Her hands were clenched in tight fists, nails pressed into her palms as she fought to keep herself together. She was _tired_. She was _exhausted_. "What do you _want_?"

He gazed at her and it burned in his chest, everything he'd tried so hard to ignore and force away for so long. He swallowed, and glanced down. "I just wanted to give you this," he muttered. He pushed a piece of paper into her fist. "Oliver and Camilla Sparks."

He felt her hand go lax under his, his fingers covering hers for just a second. He could feel the warmth of her skin. It was the most contact he'd had with her in three years. The longest he'd touched her in what felt like forever.

He made himself pull away, made himself get ready to go.

"Carter." Her voice echoed, quiet, in the empty foyer. He turned back. She closed her eyes - and he wondered if there were tears trapped under their lids. But when she opened them, they were blank. "It doesn't matter how many favours you do me. I am never," she drew a deep, shuddering breath, "Going to be that stupid again." Her empty stare sliced through him. "You are _nothing_ to me. And that's never going to change."

His hand still tingled from the memory of her skin as she left him. He wanted her back. And, he realised, he didn't think _that_ was ever going to change.

* * *

By the time she got back up to her penthouse, Blair had composed herself enough to actually look at the paper. And sure enough, it was a number. She had to focus. No more distractions. None.

She headed for her telephone.

A few minutes later, Dorota heard her hissing down the line in disbelief. "...What do you _mean _you've already been contacted? Mr Sparks-"

"Has already been told about his wayward daughter."

Blair turned. Chuck was standing in the elevator doors. And she felt the lump that had gathered in her chest, all of the tension in every nerve of her body, somehow dissipate as her eyes moved over him. Here. He was here. Chuck. "Thank you," she managed into the receiver. It fell from her hands. "You...called them?" She stared at him. "You knew?"

His voice was low. "I figured we'd all had enough of Whoregina for one day."

She released the breath she didn't even know she'd been holding as he drew closer and she caught his lapels. She felt something cold dig against her and realised, then, that he was holding a bottle of Dom.

She glanced up at him, and his mouth twitched. "I thought we could share this one this time."

She pulled the bottle out of his grasp and kissed him instead. Their mouths melded and she pushed her body against his, hands fastening in his hair. "Thank you," she breathed against his skin. Inhaled him. "Thank you."

He gripped her back. Kissed her back, holding her tight in his arms. Like if he held her tight enough then he could pretend he hadn't just seen Carter Baizen leaving her building.

* * *

**A/N - Some artistic license taken here...while Calvin Klein was, apparently, designing for a number of New York shops before he started his own company in 1968 - obviously Waldorf Designs wasn't one of them. Also: I just wanted to say how much I appreciate all of your reviews - they are incredible, and please please don't stop! Especially, heh, as I managed a pretty speedy update? :) I know some of you are a little opposed to the Carter/Blair romance, but I promise there is, of course, only one endgame. And the ideas about Carter being the love of Blair's life are coming from Chuck, not her...**


	13. Chapter 13

Baths, Chuck decided, were far superior to showers.

It was a late Sunday morning and Blair's bathroom was lit with candles, her bathtub filled with steaming, bubble-drenched water. Blair herself leaned against his bare chest, her head against his shoulder and his arms curled around her waist. He ran a sponge idly over her spine; felt her smile of satisfaction as she arched into him.

He abandoned the sponge as his hands trailed her stomach, dipping below the water - and she let out a moan and pressed herself into him, harder. He smirked and carried on his lazy exploration of her body, inching further down. Torturing her.

"_Bass_."

"Mm," he said against her. His other arm was still wrapped around her, trapping her in place. She wriggled against him. Her skin was hot and slick over his in the water and she smelt of jasmine bath salts, hair curling damp around her ears. They'd actually decided on the bath to wash _off_ the weekend they'd spent tangled in her sheets. And on her chaise longue. And on her dresser.

"Chuck," she whined.

He reached the apex of her thigh underwater; her nails were pressed into his skin now. She was even hotter between her legs. "Good things," he murmured into the shell of her ear, "Come to those who wait." And then his lips slid from her ear to cover the side of her neck, kissing her hungrily there.

"I'm _waiting-_"

And then she hissed in pleasure as his hand finally found the spot she'd been aching for him to touch. He knew exactly where it was. He stroked her there, skilled fingers sliding and thumb moving in small circles in a way that made her whimper his name; and he kissed her neck still, biting gently at her collarbone. She bucked against him and he held her tighter, feeling her back curve in delight and the heel of her palm press into his thigh under the fragranced water.

One of her arms curled around his neck as his fingers slipped inside her - and then her hand had buried in his wet hair and she was yanking his head down as he kissed the curve of her neck harder - and she turned her face to kiss him back, mouth seeking his so that her cry was muffled against his lips.

Her small hands pushed him against the ceramic side of the tub and she turned fully so that she was facing him, straddling him. She kept him pinned in place with her equally wet body as their tongues tangled. Her fingers raked against his shoulders.

She bit down on his lower lip and pulled back a little, eyes darkened with lust. But there was a grin on her face. And, slowly, she leaned away so that she was only holding onto his shoulders, though their lower bodies remained intertwined under the water, her thighs resting against his. She was very aware of just how hard he was under that water. And obviously, so was he. "Good things come to those who wait?" she echoed with a tilt of her head.

"Very good things," he agreed, voice a growl with equal lust. His hands slid around her hips.

"So..." She let her body rub against his, and they both revelled in the sweet friction. "You don't want to...shower alone?"

He captured her mouth with his and tugged her closer. "Waldorf."

She grazed his length. "Yes?"

Both of their breathing was shallow as he drank in her brown eyes, the water droplets gathered at her lashes and the suds in her dark locks, her smile. Her smile widened as he dragged her even closer, onto him, and her fingers slid through his sleek now black hair to frame his jaw. Her lips brushed his cheek, lightly.

"Are you waiting?" Her breath tickled his ear. She kissed his jaw. His hands trailed her hipbone below the bubbles. She kissed the corner of his mouth, and then the curve of his mouth. But she pulled away to kiss the hollow of his throat before he could catch those sweet lips with his own. Then his neck. Then his chest. She felt the groan that rumbled from him.

His hand rose to cup her cheek, tangling in her hair as he tilted her face up to him. He kissed her, this time, before she could protest - and he stole her breath, felt it catch. Then their bodies had shifted so that he was pressing against her entrance; she wrapped her legs around him, kissed him back as he thrust into her.

And this, he could do. When he was inside her and nothing else mattered, and she was panting his name and clinging onto him, fierce, and the depths of her brown eyes were filled with such _want_ and _need, _enough to match his own. When their bodies slammed, hot, against each other and her teeth pressed into his lower lip and her hands wrapped themselves in his hair. When she laughed and smiled and bit her own lower lip. They'd had an entire weekend of sex and scheming - and that, he could do. That was something that only they did. That only they wanted as much. Her perfect weekend and his too.

Her skin was fevered against his now, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

And as long as she looked like that - looked at him like that - and they were plotting or rolling around in her bed then he could forget all about Carter fucking Baizen.

* * *

It _should_ have been her perfect weekend.

No Carter, no Eleanor, and no Georgina Sparks. Just Chuck. It had been exactly what Blair needed - except that she knew Chuck. He'd kissed her and touched her till her skin felt aflame and that was all she could focus on. She'd worn nothing but lingerie all weekend and consumed just strawberries and macaroons and Dom. She'd lain with him on her bed, on his chest, and plotted revenge and talked take-downs. There was nothing more perfect than that, nothing she loved more.

He'd told her about Serena, and obviously it had played on her mind all weekend because how could it ever not?

But with Chuck's body pinning hers to her mattress and the knowledge that at least Georgina was gone (thanks to him), and the smirking heat of his black gold eyes above hers -

Except that she knew Chuck.

And at night, just before they'd drifted to sleep and he'd obviously thought she couldn't see, she'd noticed a flicker in his eyes. One that she didn't understand. It meant that something was wrong, but she didn't know what.

And he should have been exhausted from all the sex - but she'd woken up in the early hours of the morning because his body had been _gone_. She'd got up and found him in the kitchen. He'd brushed off her questions to claim that he was thirsty and they'd ended up having sex on the kitchen counter instead. She'd pulled him back to bed with her afterwards.

Those had been the only signs that something was amiss. But they were signs enough - and she stood in her walk-in closet now as she tried to figure out what was obviously eating away at him so much.

"Chuck," she called out. She was still wrapped in a towel as she selected her underwear. "Did Serena say something to you?"

She knew that he was lying on her bed; heard the noise of the comforter as he shifted. "What do you mean?"

She paused, but kept her voice light. "When she showed up drunk. You must have been with her a while. Did she...say anything?" Because that was the only change she could think of that had occurred since they'd last spoken. Except for him being annoyed that she hadn't told him about the deal - but she knew him well enough to know that it couldn't be the only thing playing on his mind. And anyway, if he was really angry with _her_, then they'd have had lots of angry sex. The sex this weekend hadn't been angry sex like they'd had after fights before.

She told herself she didn't know what Serena could have said to him. Only she _did_ know that when Serena was in a bad enough state, all of her feelings came out - and she had a nasty memory of Nate's yacht party and the things the blonde had said then. _You betrayed me because you couldn't even face up to telling me you had feelings for him. The truth is that you're so scared that you can't even admit it to yourself. _

Obviously Chuck knew the real reason she'd betrayed Serena. But the thought of Chuck hearing that she was scared, hearing about _feelings - _

She'd been racking her brains, but she honestly couldn't think of another reason for his behaviour. She knew a disconcerted Chuck Bass when she saw him. And it was obvious _something_ had disturbed him. She held her breath now, waiting for his response. Had he paused? A Chuck Bass pause was measured in micro seconds, but it was pause nonetheless.

His voice travelled to her. "Beside her usual incoherent babbling and confessions of love for Nate?"

She needed to see his face. She needed to see his face, his eyes, to know if he was lying or not. But a part of her was frozen, too _scared _to go out and check. So she busied herself with finding the right slip to put on. "Right," she called back. "Ok."

She let the towel fall to the floor and smoothed the silk of the slip she'd selected over her body. Well, she could just put it down to Serena's drunken state. Serena knew nothing of the situation. And Blair had the perfect way to distract him, anyway, from anything the blonde might have said.

She strode back into the bedroom with that thought. Chuck was sprawled on her bed with a copy of _The Times. _But he glanced up as she re-entered, and the newspaper was forgotten as his gaze roved over her. "A little bolder than your usual daytime attire...I like it." The hunger in his eyes - that was what she needed to see.

She smirked and advanced on him. "Are you saying I'm conservative, Bass?"

"I'm saying you should wear just your underwear more often."

She snuck onto the bed and eased herself behind him before he could turn round, her body curled into his back. One of her legs crept between his and she leaned over his shoulder to kiss him, arms twining round his neck. He turned into her then - and his hands slid over the silk now hugging her body.

"Or," he murmured as his hands crept under the silk, "Better yet..."

"Nothing at all?" Her fingers had already started unbuttoning the shirt he'd put on just a few moments ago.

"I always did appreciate," his fingers dug into the small of her back, "Your uncanny ability," - he moved her slip strap down her bare shoulder as he shifted closer to her - "To read my mind."

Her mouth curved and she kissed him back.

* * *

By the time Chuck got back to his own suite, it was almost evening and he was probably in need of another bath. (One that would be a lot less fun without a certain brunette). He'd finally been forced to leave after Laurel started calling - repeatedly - and Blair was now busy with her new designer. Besides which, Chuck had a meeting to prepare for tomorrow, and a PI to contact with the latest updates on his father.

Except when he opened the door, he found Nate still there. With Serena. The two of them were sitting on his sofa sharing room service, and they were both laughing.

Laughing.

Chuck arched an eyebrow at the pair of them. Serena, he noticed, was still dressed in the hotel's robe. "You've been here all weekend?" he enquired.

Their laughter died, hastily. Serena cleared her throat. "I didn't want to go home." She gave him a pointed look. "My mom only wants to talk about your dad."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Of course she does." His gaze then fell on his best friend. Because that might have explained Serena's presence, but it did not explain his. Or the fact that he and Serena were apparently back to being best friends. Honestly, Chuck wondered - when had Nate ever been able to stay mad at her?

Nate put down his cup, looking very sheepish. "And I was just...making sure she was ok."

Chuck's lips pursed. "I'm sure."

Nate grinned uncomfortably and returned to his drink. Chuck raised his eyes heavenwards - Serena saw and turned on him in retaliation. "So where were _you_ all weekend?" Her tone was challenging.

He pulled a face back at her. Well, that was the _last_ time he was looking after her when she was drunk. "Excuse me. I need a shower." She snorted in disbelief. He ignored her. And he added over his shoulder as he moved into the next room - "Don't get crumbs on my couch."

Serena and Nate exchanged a glance once he'd left. "What was that all about?" Nate asked. "What was Chuck doing this weekend?"

Serena paused. "I don't think I can tell you. You should...ask him." She told herself that the only reason she wasn't spilling Blair's secret was because she didn't care. And because she supposed she did kind of owe Chuck for this weekend. Plus...she did have a vague memory of ruining his shoes.

She realised Nate was looking at her, brow furrowed. "Why can't you tell me?"

And there it was. She hadn't told him about Tripp. They didn't keep secrets, not the two of them - but she hadn't told him that she was sleeping with his own cousin. He'd been the one person apart from Blair that she told nearly everything. They went to each other when they had problems that Chuck and Blair couldn't help with. Because Chuck and Blair always found solutions, and there were some problems that they needed to share between the two of them because Chuck and Blair were too ruthless and too perfect and too in love with the world they lived in to do anything other than fix them. And sometimes they just needed someone messy and someone who didn't have all the answers but tried anyway - they needed each other.

But Serena hadn't told him about Tripp and she was keeping another secret from him now. "Nate," she attempted. "It's not my secret to tell."

He stopped for a moment. "Is it to do with Blair?"

Serena worried her lip. "Do you...?" Did he know? Had he caught them at it like Serena had? Or had Chuck told him? Had_ Blair_ told him? (She didn't like how unhappy that thought made her).

Nate sighed. "All I know is I've seen Chuck when he talks about her. But I think they're too careful to let themselves be caught by me." By anyone, in fact. They'd obviously learned their lesson from Serena.

"I don't even really know what's going on either," Serena admitted now.

"Is that why you and Blair aren't talking?" Nate asked, softly.

Serena frowned. "Blair and I aren't talking because she betrayed me. She told people about me and-" Serena hesitated. She couldn't quite say his name in front of Nate. "She betrayed me." Then, when Nate said nothing, she glanced at him properly. Stilled. "You're...taking her side?" And maybe she didn't have a right to be so upset by it, but - but. "I know I did a terrible thing, Nate." Her voice nearly broke because she couldn't stand the thought that _Nate_ hated her for it.

This weekend things had almost felt like they used to - like he didn't hate her, because they'd played cards and he'd given her water and ordered her food and helped her out of bed like only Nate knew how; they'd _laughed_ and watched Walt Disney animations and Bonanza and The Rat Patrol and The Monkees on television together and it had been so easy that she'd let herself forget. Let herself believe he'd forgotten and forgiven because it was Nate and it was her. He'd never not been on her side before. The thought of losing him, the thought that maybe _he_ believed she'd deserved what Blair had done -

"I know that. But she didn't have to _tell_ people. She was supposed to be my best friend."

"Hey." Nate's expression softened as he shook his head in confusion. "I'm not taking anyone's side. Look," he hesitated. "I'm not denying what she did was bad. I don't know why she did it. But she's Blair. And...she missed you." He swallowed. "We all did."

"I missed you too," Serena mumbled. She'd missed him. She'd missed her best friend. (Her best friends). "Nate." Her blue eyes glistened. "I'm sorry. And I know that doesn't make it better, but...I am." For a moment her hand brushed his on the table, almost covering it. "And I don't want to lose you."

Nate glanced down at her hand on his. And then, gently, his thumb brushed hers. "I'm still here," he murmured at last. "I'm not...going anywhere." He didn't want_ her_ to go. Not again. "Serena..." His hand was still warm against hers. "What happened this weekend?" There was only concern on his face. He knew what it meant when she drank that much.

"I told you." She looked down. "Bart and Lily got engaged."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But...why did you invite _Georgina_?"

"I made a mistake," Serena sighed eventually. "I...don't know." She did know. She'd called Georgina because she'd wanted to call Blair.

"Well," Nate shrugged a little. "You know if you ever want someone to get really drunk with...I'm here." He smiled.

And she couldn't stop herself from smiling back. "Thanks." She squeezed his hand. "And thank you for this weekend."

There was still something a little sad in his gaze, but he nudged her shoulder. "Any time. You know that."

"Yeah," she murmured. They gazed at each other, and he was so close, their hands still interlinked. His blond hair falling into his familiar blue eyes. He smelt familiar - of Nate. His clean shirt and smile. She was leaning into him before she could even think about it, and it felt so right and so natural -

He turned his face. "Wait."

She stared at him. Moved back. "I'm...sorry." She looked at him, lost. "I'm sorry, Nate. I thought you wanted..."

Their hands broke apart. "I just..." He shifted. He did want. He'd always wanted.

"Is this because of Tripp?" She blurted the question out - and her eyes slid away from his.

"Serena." He swallowed. "You're not thinking straight right now."

_But I am_, she wanted to say. Nothing had felt more right in a long time.

"I'm here for you," he insisted. "Just..."

"Not like that." She exhaled. Tried to act like she could brush it off. "I get it."

"Serena." He reached across the table for her hand again. "We had fun this weekend. I want to be in your life again. I want us to go back to how we used to be, and I don't want anything to mess that up."

Her mouth twitched, fingers intertwining with his. "Neither do I," she admitted in the end.

He smiled - the smile she'd always found hard to resist. "So...?"

"So...we're friends."

She smiled back at him, reluctantly.

* * *

It was the middle of Wednesday, and Carter Baizen was standing by a duck pond. A _duck pond. _The midday sun burned the back of his head, the shrieks and laughter of happy children in the distance. Couples bicycling and families having picnics to make the most of the hot summer's day. But this spot was slightly more secluded, which was exactly why he'd used to come here with Blair. She'd told him it was her favourite place to feed the ducks.

Except whenever he'd convinced her to ditch the stupid school lunch room or the Met steps, and he'd whisked her here and spread a blanket on the grass for the two of them, feeding the ducks had been the last thing on his mind. When it was just the two them - when no one else was watching - it was the only time she became unsure around him. That was when he took control and kissed her properly. He remembered her school uniform, his hand inching up her pleated skirts and her dark eyes wide. He remembered her laughing, her unwilling smiles and the sunlight on her brown hair and the stupid picnic baskets she always had Dorota prepare.

He'd only come here, now, because he'd had to throw out yet another failed conquest. He'd thought that he needed air - and the cool green of Central Park had seemed inviting at the time. He should have know that what he really needed was a scotch. God, he hated parks. Wholesome family fun. Give him a bar anytime.

(Except in a bar he wouldn't have had her pale skin dappled with the trees' shadows and the smell of fresh grass and blossom mingled with her perfume and her hair).

A child screamed, cutting into the headache he already had.

And clearly it was time to leave. Ugh. He never should have come in the first place. He had a poker game to get to in any case - another trust fund brat to cheat and more money to make. He turned his back to the stupid duck pond and headed for the park exit.

* * *

Chuck was supposed to be meeting Blair. She was late. They'd agreed to recon on his lunch break to scheme, which was why he was now stood outside the gates of Central Park. They'd both been so busy that he hadn't seen her since the weekend. He had news, though, and he needed to share it with her so that they could plot their next move.

And he was sure that the dazzling sun meant Belvedere castle would be empty - because no family would want to spend time in the shade of a crumbling ruin when they had all that sunshine to enjoy. Which meant he and Blair would have the perfect place to scheme...among other activities. They'd snuck into the castle that first summer, and it had ignited Blair's desire for sex in public places. (As long as they weren't caught, obviously.) The dust motes had swirled golden against the stone, her moans stifled against his shirt as she'd shoved him eagerly against a rock.

The castle was definitely worth a revisit, Chuck decided.

"Well, well. Now who's stalking who?"

Chuck's jaw clenched.

He turned to see Carter Baizen regarding him, eyebrow cocked. He'd obviously just come out of the park. And Chuck thought he'd been doing so well - he hadn't seen the bastard the entire week. Apparently the only real way to avoid Baizen was to stay in bed with Blair. (Except Carter had invaded even that sanctum, because he'd been coming out of Blair's penthouse on Friday and Chuck still didn't know why).

Because he could just waltz into their lives whenever he felt like it, and because there really was no escape from him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Chuck sneered. "Trying to recruit dogs and kids into your games now?"

A slobbering toddler rushed past, chasing a very yappy poodle. A look of faint distaste crossed Carter's face. "They may be a step up from Archibald," he responded drily. "Probably be better at poker, too."

"Did you play with dogs on your travels, Baizen?" Acid laced Chuck's voice. "Did they teach you how to wash?"

But what _was_ Carter doing here, he wondered? Chuck and Nate had used to wander through Central Park sometimes instead of class - and Carter had used to join them, occasionally, to steal their cigarettes and share marijuana. But the only real reason that Carter Baizen had ever gone to Central Park was Blair. Lunchtime. Their dates in the park. Chuck remembered her coming back for afternoon class, Carter's arm slung around her and the little smirk on Carter's face as he kissed her by the school gates. The guys always used to ask him what, exactly, happened on those lunches. Were there grass stains on Carter's jacket? Carter had just used to smirk again - and Chuck had always known that it wasn't sex because he knew Blair. He'd used to tease her about it and she'd used to slap his arm or kick him under the table to make him shut up.

He could guess what had happened on those lunch dates because he knew Blair - duck ponds and picnic baskets and kisses. But all those dates were Blair and Carter's, and now it was lunchtime on a schoolday and Carter was here again. Carter who hated dogs and hated kids.

"I guess I don't need to ask why _you're_ here," Carter drawled - and Chuck suddenly realised that he'd glanced up the road. To where Blair's car had just pulled up. Carter looked back at him and shook his head a little, snorting. "I guess Dorota's not company enough." Chuck stiffened - and Carter's lip curled. (He didn't understand why he was suddenly so pissed that Chuck got to go to the park with her now and he didn't. And what made it worse was the knowledge that Chuck obviously wasn't going to stop in his attempts to outdo him). "Do you enjoy being my replacement, Bass? Are you gonna feed the ducks with her? Take her iceskating at Christmas?"

No. Because Blair didn't go to the duckpond any more and she sure as hell didn't go iceskating at Christmas anymore. Because she'd only ever done those things with Carter, and doing them at all now would mean acknowledging Carter's existence and all their memories.

They both watched now as the car door opened and Blair stepped out. She'd wound her hair in a dark, glossy plait and wore low heels with a sleeveless cream cashmere polo neck tucked into a tight Madras plaid skirt. She looked delicious. And Chuck saw her eyes narrow, her pace slow as she noticed Carter standing with him.

"You may not have noticed," Chuck bit back, "While you were busy contracting syphilis in Vietnam-"

"I never went to Vietnam."

"More's the pity," Chuck snarled. Blair was still too far away to hear - but he could see the expression on her face as she approached them. "We were all so hoping you'd get blown up. Regardless," he went on, "The fact remains that we're not in high school any more, Baizen. And apparently you're the only one who hasn't moved on." He spared the park behind them a scornful glance.

There was something dark in Carter's gaze for a moment. His gaze flickered to Blair and then back to Chuck. He smiled, tightly. "You're the one taking her to Central Park for your pathetic little schemes. What, does she want your help taking down a minion?"

"Chuck."

Blair's voice cut Chuck off before he could respond. She stood between the two boys, arms folded - but it was Chuck that she was looking at. And, Carter noticed, Chuck that she'd drawn closer to. And Carter suddenly realised from their proximity just how similar they looked; Chuck was dressed in a chequered jacket, for God's sake, with a bright red tie that matched the red on her skirt. He wondered if the guy had planned it that way.

"Hey," Carter just about stopped himself from adding _beautiful, _even though it was painfully true. He and Chuck had gone back to acting like each other didn't exist. He tried to pull her attention back to him. "I'm sorry about my lawyers."

Those dark eyes regarded him for the barest of seconds. "It's fine," she responded. They'd cancelled the meeting that was supposed to have taken place earlier in the week. "I've been trying to contact them to reschedule-"

"But they're useless," Carter finished sardonically. He remembered all too well. "I spoke to them myself. Two o'clock on Friday." There was a beat of silence as both Chuck and Blair watched him. But Blair was the only one Carter was looking at. "I'll see you then." He moved his head, and he did glance, briefly, at Chuck. Mocking. "_Enjoy_." He sauntered off.

Blair was already turning for the park, with a pointed tug of Chuck's arm. They fell into each other's pace. And her arm slipped out of his lest anyone see them, though he was aware of the heat of her bare skin inches from his.

"So you won't make Bart and Lily's engagement party," he observed as they walked.

Blair turned on him, instant. "They set a date?"

"This Friday."

"Well," she brushed it off, "Of course I'll make it. The meeting is a two, and the party won't be till the evening." She didn't understand why he would think otherwise - obviously the engagement party was more important. This was what they'd been waiting for all week. (Although she'd also been waiting for that damn meeting all week. And she wanted that money to pay off Vanessa).

Anyway, she didn't _want_ to talk about the meeting. Which Chuck knew.

"I'll call Vanessa and give her the times as soon as I get back," she pressed. "And then all you need to do is keep an eye on Bart." He sensed an excitement under her apparent satisfaction - an excitement that even seeing Carter had evidently failed to dampen.

He looked at her sideways as they moved past a willow tree. There was a smile that she couldn't entirely conceal from him. "Why were you late?" he enquired.

She glanced back at him and her smirk widened. Because he was the only person she'd wanted to tell, and the car journey on the way here had seemed to drag out forever while the news sunk in. "My mother called me." Eleanor _never_ called from Paris. Chuck arched a brow, quizzical. "She said Givenchy likes Calvin Klein's designs. And," she inhaled - and her thrill was almost palpable - "She booked me a ticket. For the end of the month."

Chuck grinned at the delight on her face; and before she could react otherwise, he'd caught her arm and swept her under the long fronds of the willow, out of sight. "Well, I think this calls for celebration," he murmured as he kissed her.

She beamed up at him, breathless, and caught the lapels of his jacket. "We should probably go to the castle instead of here, it's too dangerous-" But she was kissing him eagerly and her hands roamed, greedy, over his chest. She was happy and excited and turned on as she stretched on her toes to kiss him harder, backing him against the tree trunk. "We're going to sort out this mess with Bart and Lily, and then I'm going to Paris. I'm going to see Givenchy. My life is _perfect_." The strands of willow tangled in their hair - she pushed them away impatiently so that she could get at all of him. One hand slid down his sternum, under his jacket, till she'd untucked his shirt and her fingers were brushing skin and sliding into his pants. She drank in the hot scent of him as her lips buried in his neck, his hands sliding over her back and cupping her behind, tight, as the willow tree played over her bare shoulders. Her skirt was pushed up as she wrapped her legs around him.

He caught her thighs and turned so that her back was pressed against the tree instead. She unzipped his pants as his fingers slid aside her underwear. She made a noise of pleasure into his shoulder, heart racing. Sunlight slanted through gaps in the tree and set his black eyes aflame, turned her skin golden.

(They both pushed aside the last time she'd got quite so excited about Givenchy and three little words and threw all their energy into claiming each other's mouths instead, scraping skin and fisting hair and pushing clothes to the side).

_Fuck _ice skating and duck ponds.

And if Blair noticed a hardness, an urgency to Chuck's grip that she didn't fully understand, she was too ecstatic and too wrapped up in him to stop and question it.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you so so much for all your wonderful reviews last chapter, they were so appreciated! I hope this chapter didn't drag too much; I know technically not much happened, but the engagement party is to come. Also, I promise Carter is going to up his game and get over all his hanging around reminiscing...**


	14. Chapter 14

"Miss Blair, this package came for you!"

Blair was on her way out, reaching for her shades and purse. "Dorota," she snapped impatiently. "I told you I don't have_ time_." She was en route to the lawyers' meeting and she just wanted to get it over and done with. If she was late then it would only drag on even longer.

Dorota hurried over, however, brandishing a wide smile and a large garment bag. "I think you want to see this."

Blair paused. But she'd already spotted the brand printed on the bag and her heart had already leapt. _Givenchy. _She snatched it from the maid, eagerly carrying it over to the chaise longue so she could unzip it. There was a flash of pink and a note signed CB. _Looking forward to seeing you in this tonight...and celebrating in style._ She was unable to stop her grin as she drank in the familiar handwriting.

And then she pulled the dress out of the bag to look at it properly. Beautiful. It was beautiful. The material whispered across her hands, bright pink silk crepe; it was a floor length sheath dress with a diagonal neck line that rose from a bow, the skirt wrapped around in a curved hem.

"Is lovely dress, Miss Blair."

Miss Blair barely heard the woman. It was a lot more than lovely, after all. "It's perfect," she murmured. She wasn't even aware that she was still smiling like a fool. The dress was perfect. And she couldn't wait to get this meeting out of the way so that she could wear it. So that Chuck could see her in it. Her life was perfect, she reminded herself. She had one more blip on the horizon - the meeting - and then she wouldn't have anything more to do with Carter Baizen ever again. And then she could focus on the plan, and she and Chuck were going to defeat Bart and make love all over the Palace to celebrate. Serena and Lily and Eric would all be safe. Serena would be safe.

And then Blair was going to go to Paris and meet Givenchy and meet Audrey Hepburn and see fashion at its best - and then when she got back to New York it would mean make-up sex with Chuck. She even allowed herself to entertain the glimmering fantasy of Chuck flying out to Paris with her, of boat trips down the Seine and the best restaurants and the suite of the Ritz. Sex at the top of the Eiffel Tower.

With that thought she zipped up the bag again and instructed Dorota to take it to her bedroom, ready for when she got back. Then she crossed the lounge to the telephone.

She knew his number by heart, of course. He would no doubt be in the office at the moment - where she couldn't call, thanks to Bart - but his suite had the advantage of an answering machine.

"Bass," she purred down the line. "You'd better be prepared for some serious celebration tonight." She curled the telephone cord around her fingers as a smile played at her lips. "I'm thinking we start on the roof and work our way down...I can't wait. And thank you for the dress." Her eyes closed for a moment. "It's...amazing." She grinned down the line. "I'll see you tonight."

She hung up and set off for the meeting with a renewed spring to her step.

* * *

Carter stood in the marble foyer of Baizen Enterprises, drumming his fingers against the polished receptionist's counter. He wasn't looking forward to another several hours with his father's time-wasting lawyers. He was, however, looking forward to -

"Carter."

He turned. Blair stood behind him in a green shift dress.

"Are you ready?"

"If you are," he smiled back. He was expecting her to ignore him, but she just rolled her eyes. "We're on the twentieth floor." He gestured to let her go first into the elevator.

The doors slid closed on the two of them and the compartment started to climb. He hadn't stood so close to her for a very long time, he realised. And in the enclosed space he could smell her scent - and he swore he could feel her warmth. He half expected her to stiffen at his proximity, but when he glanced at her he saw that she looked unfazed. There was something about her. Some kind of glow, a brightness to her dark eyes that he hadn't seen in a while.

"You're in a good mood," he commented. He was probably pushing his luck, but he didn't care. She looked _happy. _And he'd missed that smile, and he'd missed that glow. He wanted to know what was causing it now. He wanted to know why. He wanted to know what was making her so happy - because he'd used to always know.

She spared him a glance now. "And?"

He cocked his head. "And nothing."

She shot him a look as the elevator reached its destination and the doors dinged. He couldn't stop the faint curve of his lip as she brushed past him, though, because he knew her well enough to know that her looking at him at all was progress.

* * *

The van der Woodsen penthouse was a flurry of activity as evening approached; hairdresser, manicurist, an interviewer from the Times and the assistant that helped Lily into her sleek violet Chanel dress. The engagement party was being held at the Palace, and Lily had already spent most of the week dictating invites and ordering around Bart's catering staff.

Her assistant held up a full-length mirror, now, as Lily fastened her diamond earrings.

"Do you and Mr Bass hope to have a church wedding?" the interviewer asked.

Lily was spared answering as Serena wandered into the room. She seemed oblivious to how busy the various people around her were. And, Lily noticed - as did the interviewer - she was dressed in a tiny pair of orange hot pants, knee socks and long necklaces with her blonde hair wild and loose. She ignored all of them to stride over to the bowl of fruit on the table, all long legs, and pick up a peach.

The interviewer appeared more than captivated as she perched on the table and sank her teeth into the fruit, the sweet juice running down her full lips.

"Serena." Lily attempted to keep her voice light. "It's half past five - you should be getting dressed."

Her daughter raised a golden brow at her. "I thought I was dressed. What's wrong with this?"

The interviewer was still gawping; Lily smiled at him, tightly. "I bought you a lovely Dior to wear to the party."

"Well, I don't want it." Serena shrugged. "I'm not going," she shook her head, "And you can't _bribe_ me with couture."

Everyone in the room was listening now - much as they pretended not to. Which Lily was very aware of. She brushed off her assistant, smiling, "Excuse us." And once she'd ushered Serena into the next room and out of ear shot, she turned on her. "Serena. I know that the idea of this is going to take some getting used to-"

"Used to?" Serena interrupted, incredulous. "How can I ever get _used_ to the idea that you're marrying _Bart Bass, _mom? Or that you're making me go to an engagement party when the last one I went to was my own - with the son of the man you're about to marry? No." She crossed her arms. "I'm never gonna get used to this."

Lily sighed. "Serena-"

"What's going on?" Eric stuck his head round the door and Serena turned to him, instantly.

Her arms were still folded. "I'm not going to a stupid party to pretend that we're all one big happy family with the Basses."

"Oh, for heaven's sake." Lily threw her hands up. She had an interview to finish and she hadn't even done her hair yet - she did not need another rebellion from her daughter. She wanted the perfect party and her children to just be happy. Was that so much to ask? "I'm going to finish getting ready." She smoothed back her hair, moving for the door. Placed a brief hand on Eric's cheek. "Maybe you can talk some sense into your sister."

And she swept out.

Serena glowered at her mother's retreating back. She and Eric exchanged an eye roll. "I can't believe her."

"She's happy," Eric shrugged with a gentle smile.

"She's always happy when she gets a new husband," Serena pointed out. "I mean, she could have had any man in New York, any man in the _world_," - she had with Klaus and Claus - "And she picks him. She picks Chuck's _father_."

"She's going to get the wedding you never had," Eric agreed gravely.

Serena gave him a look, mouth twitching. "Shut up. This isn't funny." Her little brother just grinned. "You know," she went on with a frown, "This wedding pretty much is giving her everything she would've got if I'd been married. Bass Industries-"

"Chuck as a son?" Eric suggested.

Serena pulled a face at the thought. "Gross," she groaned. "He's not mom's son and he is _not_ our brother."

Eric laughed. He wouldn't have minded Chuck as a stepbrother, in all honesty. He'd enjoyed having him as a potential brother in-law. "You can't leave me alone at this party."

"So we both won't go," Serena protested as she dropped onto a chair. "Let's just stay here. We can make mint juleps and eat meringue and watch Friday night movies on CBS..."

"We have to go this party. It'll be fun," Eric nudged her. "And I'm sure the Archibalds will be there." He hadn't failed to notice that Serena and Nate were talking again.

That did make Serena smile, despite herself. Then she sighed. "I'm sure Blair will too," she muttered. "If Chuck is."

"Come on," Eric got to his feet. "You don't have to talk to any of them. Just drink some champagne, stay with me and Nate. And you'll make mom happy."

Serena's shoulders slumped a little as she looked at her brother. "Ok," she said at last. "Fine. I'll go." Eric was smiling as he helped pull her up; she pushed him. "You're an emotional blackmailer, you know that?"

"Yeah," he answered sanguinely.

* * *

Chuck was finishing off some numbers when Bart opened his office door.

"Aren't you done yet?" His father wore a frown as he regarded him.

Chuck completed the last row and put down his pen. "I am now."

"Good. I don't want you to be late tonight." Bart adjusted his tie. "Neither does Lily." Which was the only real reason his father cared, Chuck knew.

"Don't worry." Chuck smiled at the man - he actually had every intention of being early. He had a plan to put into place. "I'll be there." And then with any luck he and Blair were going to end this. For good. He was still smiling as Bart rolled his eyes at him and left.

* * *

"What do you mean it's not possible?"

The look that Blair directed at the lawyer was one of sheer ice - Carter wasn't surprised that the man blanched a little. "Miss Waldorf," another one cut in, "I'm afraid that we can't allow you to liquidate the shares without the consent of your mother."

"And I told you," Blair answered through gritted teeth, "She's in Paris at the moment. She won't be back for at least another month. And I'm leaving myself in a couple of weeks, so I need to get this sorted. Now."

They'd been in the damn office for hours - wasting time on paper work and details before they'd even got to the issue, just like Carter had known they would - and Blair's good mood was starting to get severely strained.

Carter hadn't been all that surprised, either, at her decision. Obviously liquidating her shares was the only way to cut herself off from the company completely. He also wondered if it was Paris that had made her so happy, but he was sure there was something else. "I don't see why," he drawled now, "If they're her shares, then she needs Eleanor's consent."

The lawyer cleared his throat. "But they're not her shares. They were left to Waldorf Designs, and the head of Waldorf Designs is Eleanor Waldorf. We can't do anything without her permission."

"I have her permission," Blair snapped. "I _told_ you, she left the shares to me."

"I'm sorry, Miss Waldorf." The first lawyer pushed his glasses up his nose and Carter sensed Blair's urge to slap them off his face. "We can't confirm that unless we speak to her directly and we have her signature."

Blair's hands were clenched tight on her lap now. The dress, she told herself. She just had to focus on the dress that Chuck had bought her and then she was calm. She was going to get this sorted. She was. But she was also painfully aware of the fact that the sun on the other side of the window was sinking lower and lower. The sky was getting darker and she was getting later by the minute.

"We can go over the papers again if-"

"No," Blair cut him off in sheer frustration. She'd had enough. She finally rounded on Carter. "These are your lawyers. Can you please do something?"

Carter glanced back at her. He opened his mouth - but the lawyers had had enough by this point too. They's decided from the last meeting that they were not fans of Carter Baizen, and they certainly weren't fans of the young Waldorf heiress. "Actually," one of them ventured, short, "We worked for the late Mr. Baizen. And as his son only owns ten percent of the company, we answer to the board. Not to him."

Blair stopped. "Ten percent?" she repeated, stupidly. Carter's father had only left him_ ten percent_? His own son had inherited as much as she had? It was absurd. It made no sense. And why the hell, she wondered, hadn't Carter complained or even contested it? He was supposed to inherit the whole company. He'd always been supposed to inherit the whole company. And now he didn't even have power over the lawyers?

"Miss Waldorf-"

"I need to go." She stood up, abruptly. "I have somewhere to be, and this obviously isn't going to achieve anything." She snatched up her purse. "Thank you for all your _help_."

The lawyers shared helpless glances; but Carter was already on his feet and headed after her, brow furrowed.

The elevator doors were just sliding closed - he shot out a hand to stop them and slipped into the compartment. Blair refused to look at him as the elevator started its descent. Her lips were pinched, tight, in anger.

"Look," he sighed. "I'm sorry. I'll talk to them, make them listen. They're idiots."

She said nothing.

"Blair-"

"Why didn't you tell me you had no influence on the company? You let me think you could somehow help with the lawyers. And you can't." Her voice was rigid.

"It's not like you exactly gave me the chance to," he answered with an arched brow. "You didn't want to discuss it, remember?" He rolled his eyes. "I told you, I'll talk to them-"

"You lied."

Carter stared at her for a moment. She was white. He didn't understand why. But he got the feeling that she wasn't just talking about the lawyers or his father's company. He shook his head. "I didn't lie." Lying would involve actually speaking to her, after all. It would involve her actually listening to him.

"No," she said, quietly. "You just didn't bother to tell me."

Her profile was very erect as Carter looked at her again. "Because it wasn't important," he responded. "You've made it pretty clear you don't want to know anything about my life anyway - so why do you care so much?"

"Not important?" Blair echoed. "Your father doesn't leave you his company and you don't think that's important?" She didn't understand it. Didn't understand how it could _not_ be important. And if he hadn't inherited the company, then why the hell was he still here?

Carter just snorted. "Please. He did me a favour - I couldn't give a damn about his company, as long as I get my money."

Blair had stilled. She didn't _understand. _He didn't give a damn about his father's company? He didn't give a damn -

The elevator came to a stop; she lurched straight out, heels snapping against the marble. She suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe. That feeling, creeping back again. And she couldn't deal with that feeling. She didn't want that feeling.

She felt a hand close over her arm and she jolted back. "_Don't touch me_."

Carter let her go, but he refused to let her past him. "You can't keep refusing to talk to me or even look at me and then get pissed when you don't know something. I _get_ it, ok?" She couldn't look at him now; couldn't look at his face. She just wanted to get out. She wanted to put on her dress and she wanted to see Chuck and she didn't want anything more to do with this. (He didn't give a damn). "What I did was unforgivable," he said. "And I'm _sorry. _I know you don't want to hear my apology. But you can't keep ignoring me, Blair. I'm not going to let you cut me out forever." He gazed down at her. "I'm not going anywhere."

She was shaking, he realised. But she pulled away before he could touch her again - and she walked out before he could say anything else.

* * *

Lily had had the Madison Room of the Palace decked in white in keeping with a summer theme, lights flooding its vaulted ceilings and solid marble columns, freesias and peonies beautifully arranged.

Serena had changed out of her hotpants, but she'd ignored the conservative blue Dior her mother had left out on her bed. The dress she wore instead was the latest Paco Rabanne; a tight, long sleeveless sheath of metal links. Her hair was swept to the side and her feet encased in stilettos, fingers wrapped around a glass of champagne. As promised, she was stood with Nate and Eric. And oblivious to the many looks of admiration thrown in her direction, because she was too busy watching her mother, one hand on her hip.

Her mother and Bart Bass.

Lily laughed loudly and Serena was aware of Chuck in the opposite corner of the room, watching them too. She wondered where Blair was. And then she tried to push that thought away because she shouldn't be wondering about Blair. She was over Blair. Completely over her.

Lily laughed again and Serena glowered.

Nate brushed her, lightly. "More champagne?"

She squeezed his hand and flashed him a smile of sheer gratitude. "Please."

And then she couldn't quite tear her eyes away from him as he headed for the bar. He looked _good_ in his tuxedo, hair slightly rumpled, and she almost wished he hadn't brushed her because she had the urge to kiss him again.

"Hey, man." Nate drew up to Chuck as he nodded at the bartender for more drinks. He noticed then that the other guy was unusually silent, no hint of his usual smirk. "What's going on?"

Chuck glanced at him. "I'm just celebrating the happy couple," he murmured.

His best friend looked round too. "Where's Blair?"

Chuck's grip tightened, invisible, on his own drink. "I have no idea."

Blair was late. Which could only mean that she was still with Carter. She was with Carter. There was no sign of her, and Vanessa was due to arrive in five minutes. Blair was never late, and especially never late for a scheme. Not unless there was a very big reason. Not unless there was something more important.

She was with Carter.

* * *

"I'd like to make a toast." All eyes in the room turned to Bart, now, as he stood with his bride to be. Lily was beaming as she held his arm - Serena tried very hard not to throw up. She couldn't do it, she decided. She couldn't stand here listening to Bart Bass talk about how much he loved her mother. She didn't want to watch her mother's adoring smile at yet another husband. At a _Bass._

Nate attempted to catch her arm as she slid away; she shook her head. Caught Eric's eye to let him know that she couldn't do it. Not without interrupting to tell them both how full of crap they were, anyway. How unfair they were being. She'd come to the party and that was enough.

She headed out of the room and into the hotel reception, and she was so set on getting to the exit that it took her a moment to notice Blair coming in the opposite direction.

She stopped. The other girl looked flawless in her pink dress, white gloves and dark hair piled on top of her head. She also looked strangely pale. Serena hadn't lost the ability to notice when something was wrong with Blair, even though she wished she had. She told herself she didn't care. But it slipped out before she could stop it. "What's wrong with _you_?"

And maybe it hung between them for a moment, the memory of Serena's own engagement party. It had also been held in the Palace - the day before the Tripp affair had come out. Serena remembered how distant Blair had been throughout the whole event, remembered _knowing_ something was wrong. Serena's engagement party had been a night of Blair's false smiles that had ended in Serena catching her fiance and her best friend locked in each other's embrace.

Serena wished she didn't give a damn how pale Blair looked now.

Blair stiffened. "Apart from you being in my way?" She suddenly turned on the blonde. "You've made it pretty clear that we're not friends, so don't bother talking to me now." She moved past her and Serena froze in hurt - and anger.

"Why?" she called after her. "Are you using this party to ruin another person's life?"

She didn't see Blair's flinch as the other girl forced herself into the Madison room. All she saw was Blair ignoring her. Blair, acting like she didn't even care. Serena wrapped her arms around herself and pressed her teeth into her lower lip. She was over her. She was _so_ over her - so why did it hurt so much?

* * *

"So if you could all join me in raising a glass-"

"You're a liar!"

Bart was cut off by an angry female voice; the guests all turned in confusion. A girl was shoving her way through the throngs of elegantly dressed people. A girl with wild black curls, who was wearing pants and wasn't even _dressed_ for a party. Least of all a Lily van der Woodsen party.

She came to a stop before the engaged couple, a stark contrast to Lily's refined golden beauty. Lily was looking at the girl in evident shock.

"You're a liar," she announced loudly - she strode close enough to face the suited man, who stared at her, blank. "You told me you _loved_ me."

Lily froze. "I'm sorry?"

"He told me he loved me," the girl cried. "He told me I was beautiful and I was the only one for him. We made _love _last night, and then I find out he's _engaged_?" She glared at Bart. "How could you do this to me?"

Lily raised an eyebrow at him.

Bart frowned back. "I have no idea who this girl is." There were a few whispers starting to leak out from the guests. "And this isn't the place to discuss this."

"That's right," the girl laughed angrily, "Because you'll do anything to avoid a scene. Typical Bart Bass."

Bart was already starting to signal security. Lily cleared her throat. "If you'll excuse me." She smiled tensely for the sake of the guests; and then she was leaving. This was not a scene that she was going to endure any longer.

"I'm not going anywhere," the girl yelled as a doorman stepped forward to take hold of her. "Not until everyone knows the truth!" She was dragged out of the room - Eric had followed Lily, and Bart paused for a moment before heading after the girl.

In all the commotion no one had noticed the figure in the pink dress slip in at the back. No one except Chuck. His gaze met hers across the room - and two pairs of dark eyes burned.

* * *

Bart dismissed the doorman once they were out of eyesight and earshot of the other guests. He turned to the girl, and his face was impassive. "I don't know who's paying you, but I can assure you that unless you take back these lies right now, you're going to be in a lot of trouble."

Vanessa swallowed. But something about Bart Bass's cool sense of entitlement sparked her anger. These people thought they could control everything and answer to no one. She would _not_ be intimidated by him. "You're the only one who's lying." Chuck and Blair had instructed her that under no circumstances must she go back on her story - no matter what Bart said. And she did get a secret thrill out of the idea that someone like him had something to lose. Someone like him could be intimidated. "You made me think you were in love with me, and now you're treating me like your dirty little secret."

Bart rolled his eyes. "Please-"

"I could be pregnant, you know." Actually, she was improvising now. But the lies were completely justified because Bart Bass deserved them. Yes, he deserved to feel fear like a normal person. He deserved to have his extravagant party disrupted - all the champagne and useless hundreds spent on dresses when there were families in Brooklyn who couldn't even afford rent. They'd probably spent more on the food than she made in a year. In_ two_ years.

Bart regarded her. His gaze was cold. "All right. What's it going to take to make this go away?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't act stupid," he sighed. "How much?"

Vanessa looked at him in disbelief. "So now you're _paying_ me for my silence?"

"Why am I not surprised?"

And at that voice, both of them turned.

Lily had come into the foyer. She glanced between Vanessa and Bart and shook her head. "I suppose I should have expected this. Is it your idea of revenge, Bart?"

"This has nothing to do with revenge, he_ loves_ me-"

"I think we've had enough of you for one night," Lily stopped Vanessa icily. "You can leave now."

"But-"

"_Leave_."

Vanessa left.

"Lily," Bart scoffed. "Obviously this isn't true. I've never even seen the girl before."

Lily folded her arms much like her daughter had several hours ago. "Well, she certainly seemed to know you."

"You're being ridiculous," Bart stated.

She gave him a look of incredulity. "I'm being ridiculous?" she made a noise that verged on a laugh. "That girl just ruined our engagement party, Bart, and I overheard you trying to pay her off. I fail to see how I'm being ridiculous."

"I fail to see how you could take her word over mine." Bart's eyes narrowed. "You're supposed to trust me, Lily."

Lily pursed her lips for a moment. "Well," she said at last. "I don't."

* * *

"You'll get your money tomorrow," Blair informed Vanessa as the two of them stood by the hotel entrance, tucked out of sight. Except it wasn't going to be Carter's money.

Chuck was tracking Bart and Lily's progress while Blair took care of the Brooklynite.

She inclined her head at her now; as long as she focused on this and nothing else then everything was fine. The plan had gone off without a hitch, so far. "I have to admit that I'm impressed," she went on. "I didn't think you had it in you, Abrams."

Vanessa just scowled back. "You didn't think I could face Bart Bass? Well, not everybody lives in fear of you people."

"No," Blair smirked, hard. "I didn't think you could lie that well. Really, you should be an actress."

The poorer girl snorted. "Unlike you, I don't consider lying an achievement."

"Unless you're getting paid for it?" Blair enquired.

Vanessa's mouth screwed up. "You better not double cross me," was all she could come up with in the end. And then she stomped away, telling herself that she was better than all of them. She was _nothing_ like them.

Blair made a sound of distaste.

"It was you?"

She stilled.

Serena was standing behind her.

"I can't believe you," the blonde breathed. "I can't believe you'd do this. Again."

"Serena-"

"No." She refused to let Blair speak, shaking her head. "I can't _believe_ you. What is it? Can you just not stand to see anyone else happy? You didn't get your perfect wedding so you don't want anyone else to get the same thing? Or is it just that you can't stand for me to be connected to Chuck in _any_ way because you're so scared he'll leave you like everyone else does? What is your _problem_, Blair?"

Blair was rigid. She couldn't take this. She couldn't.

But Serena had stormed off before she could even answer.

* * *

"Mom."

Serena managed to control her anger at Blair as she opened the door to the side room and let herself in. Lily was sitting on the plush sofa, Eric at her side.

Slowly, Serena slid onto the seat opposite her. She swallowed. "I'm really sorry." She was still struggling to make sense of it, struggling to work out if she should tell her mother the truth. (How could Blair do that to her? Again? How?) And at the back of her mind there was still the knowledge that just because this particular girl had been a fake didn't mean there weren't other girls. Everyone knew Bart Bass's reputation. She couldn't bring herself to defend him - and if her mother didn't trust him anyway then she'd been right, and the relationship was a bad idea.

Lily released a breath. "No, you're not."

"Mom-"

"Don't act like this isn't exactly what you wanted, Serena." Lily's voice was even. "Just don't." She rose to her feet. "If you'll excuse me. I'm going home. I think I need a glass of wine and a hot bath."

Eric glanced at his sister with a quiet, reassuring smile. Except it didn't do anything to make Serena feel any better. He and Lily left, and Serena decided that she needed the bar. And not just for a glass of wine.

* * *

Blair needed Chuck. She needed Chuck and she needed his suite. She couldn't find him anywhere downstairs so he must have gone straight up - and she found herself irrationally angry that he hadn't waited for her. She needed him. She needed him and she needed to know that what they'd done - what she'd done - had been for a reason. She needed to forget. She needed Chuck.

She slid her key into his suite door.

And sure enough, he was sat at his minibar. He had his back to her as she marched across the room and took the seat next to him. "So? Did it work?"

"I doubt Lily's going to take him back." Chuck had seen her leaving the hotel without his father.

Blair paused as she picked up on something strange in his voice. She could smell the scotch - he'd been drinking. And not celebratory champagne.

"So...why aren't we celebrating?" He hadn't even commented on her dress. Nothing. He wasn't even looking at her. Dread pricked at the back of her mind. (_He'll leave you like everyone else does_). But he wouldn't - he couldn't because he was Chuck and she could distract him and they were going to have sex and they were supposed to be celebrating. She slid her hand over his thigh. "Chuck?" _  
_

He'd seen the look on Lily's face, and even though he knew he'd done what was necessary, he hadn't expected that look on her face to affect him. But he couldn't even focus on that because all he could think about was _Carter Baizen. _Blair had been pale when she'd finally turned up and something had happened.

Something had happened and she was never going to admit it because it was Carter.

Carter was never going to go away. Never. Everywhere they turned -

"How was your meeting?" Chuck's voice was flat.

And she reacted just like he knew she would. "Can we not talk about the stupid meeting? All that matters is that we won." Her hand eased higher up his pant leg. "That's what we should be focusing on."

He didn't respond to her touch. Secret panic clawed at her chest - he couldn't not respond to her touch. He _always_ responded. It was Chuck.

"What's wrong with you?" she snapped.

Chuck took a mouthful of scotch. Her hand slipped, ignored, from his leg. "Why were you so late?" he asked. It was a sneer. "Did Baizen take you out to dinner?" He was scared and the jealousy seethed through him as the words slid out, cruel - and just as he'd known would happen, her face went blank at the mention of the name. Just his name.

"What is your problem?" she demanded at last. "Why are we _always_ talking about him? Why do you keep bringing him up?"

"Because," Chuck ground, "He's always _there."_

Blair released a short breath. Why couldn't anyone just let her forget? Why? Why didn't she get to be in Chuck's suite with Chuck and just lose herself in him? "Yes," she said eventually. "Because my mother decided it was a good idea to sign a contract with Edward Baizen and give me ten percent of a company I don't even want. So can we please just-"

"You really think Baizen is back because he cares about his father's company?" Chuck stared at her, voice low. "You really think," his lip curled, "That's why he's staying in New York and going to duck ponds and lawyers' meetings?"

Blair grit her teeth in pure frustration. "I don't know, Chuck. I don't _care_. I don't waste my time thinking about what Carter Baizen does or doesn't-"

"No," he cut her off. His hand was even tighter around his glass of scotch. "Because you can't."

She paused, and her eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?" It was dangerous.

He gave her a sideways look, and the bitter taste of fear and scotch burned his throat. "You know what it means."

"No," she hissed. "I don't." She hated the fact that he was still refusing to even _look_ at her. "_Chuck_."

She snatched the glass out of his hand until, finally, his gaze was forced to settle on hers. He went to pull away - and his hand had curled around the bottle this time - but she yanked him back down.

He was stiff under her touch. "You can't think about Baizen." His voice came out cold, his eyes black as they flickered over her. "Because then you'd have to admit that you let him break you."

Something flashed on her face. "Carter Bazien did not _break_ me." She stared at him and the anger flared, white-hot. Chuck Bass did not think she was _broken_. "Have you forgotten who you're talking to?"

His gaze was penetrating. "Have you?"

"You-"

"You think I don't know Blair Waldorf denial mode? You think I don't know that you refuse to celebrate Christmas anymore, that you avoid speaking to Harold just in case he brings him up-"

Blair was shaking with fury as she attempted to cut him off; "I avoid speaking to daddy because he _left_-"

"He left, just like Carter did." The next bit was wrenched, seething, out of Chuck. "And now you can't even hear the words 'I love you' without feeling sick, because there's only one person you've ever been in love with. And he _left_. "

She let go of him.

His fingers clenched around the bottle.

She swallowed, hard. "We were having sex. You didn't even mean it."

It caught him for a moment – because of all things, he hadn't expected _that_. And it was suddenly hard to breathe as she stared at him. "Didn't I?" He spoke tightly and very quietly. "Or did you just not want to hear it?" It was almost inaudible. He stood, rough, and dropped the bottle. It clattered against the bar – he ignored it and he ignored her flinch as he turned away, because there was something crushing his chest.

"So what?" Blair's voice cut. "Now you're walking away?"

He wheeled on her. "_I'm_ not the one who walked away." His mouth had twisted, nostrils flared. "I'm _not_ Carter Baizen. It doesn't matter how many times you shut your eyes and pretend, Waldorf – I'm never going to be him."

Blair stared in absolute disbelief. "That's really what you think? That – what? I want you to be some kind of Carter _replacement_?"

He made a noise that was something like a scoff. (Because it was the fear that ate into the back of his mind every day, that haunted his deepest darkest thoughts. Because he knew just how capable Blair was of projecting her fantasies onto a person. Because he wasn't Carter, and he'd never be Carter).

Blair shook her head, slowly. "If that's really what you think," she managed at last – the anger was almost consuming her - "Then maybe you don't know me at all."

And at that, his gaze did shoot to hers. He jeered it. "I know you can't think about him, and you can't talk about him." Her face was set, pale, but she couldn't deny it. (Because he knew her.) "I know you can't face up to it."

She was white and trembling in her pink dress as she lifted her chin. She was the one who walked away this time, the door of his suite clicking shut behind her.

And her silence echoed in his ears, deafened him.

* * *

The Madison room was now empty - the guests had cleared out and Serena was the only person left at the bar, champagne bottle at her side. In fact, she was sat _on_ the bar because she felt like it. Because her mother wasn't here to raise her eyebrows and Blair wasn't here to drag her down. Why had Blair done it? _Why?_

And why did it still hurt Serena when she knew damn well that Blair had done worse?

How many years had Blair been her sister? How many years had she looked out for Eric, joked with Lily - and how many years had Serena known just how scheming and manipulative she could be? Except she'd always known that it was Blair and it was fine and when it came down to it, Blair was her best friend and that was all that mattered.

Blair had turned on her. Blair had turned on Lily, and Serena didn't understand it. Blair didn't care about her and all she wanted was to not care about her either. She wanted to hurt her back but she was _exhausted_. She'd slept with Carter because she'd thought that it was the worst thing she could do to Blair and still she'd felt guilty. She _shouldn't_ feel guilty.

Blair sure as hell didn't.

"Serena. Is your mother here?"

She glanced round - she hadn't even heard Bart enter. He was standing immaculate in his suit, and Serena felt an unexplained wave of dislike for him. Another husband to take Lily's attention again. Another Bass for someone who was supposed to be her_ family_ to prioritise over her. When had she got so bitter, she wondered? She was Serena van der Woodsen. She was never bitter. But it _hurt. _It hurt, and all the champagne in the world didn't make her feel any more bubbly.

She took a swig of the bottle. "Obviously not."

Bart sighed, impatient, and turned to go.

"Don't you want to know where your son is?" Serena called after him suddenly. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Blair got to destroy her without feeling guilty and it wasn't fair that Blair just got to stop caring. Serena needed to stop caring. She needed it so much.

"I'm sure he's up to no good with a member of my staff," Bart answered brusquely. "Excuse me."

"I don't think he is," Serena slurred. "I'm pretty sure he's up to no good with Blair, just like he was at our engagement party."

Bart paused. "Blair Waldorf? When you two were engaged?"

"Only Blair doesn't want anyone to know," Serena laughed miserably, "Because then people might know that she's in love with him and _obviously _no one can know that because then someone might be able to hurt her. And everyone else has to be hurt. Not Blair."

"Excuse me," Bart repeated, but Serena wasn't listening.

She barely acknowledged him leave. Instead she picked up the bottle again and twirled it in the light. Champagne did nothing. And here she was getting drunk once again, just like only messy Serena knew how. Now all she had to do was find someone inappropriate to sleep with.

She heard a noise behind her and turned, ready to tell Bart to get lost. Her mother had more sense than to take him back.

Nate.

Nate was standing in the doorway. Nate was crossing the room to her. "There you are," he sighed. "I've been looking for you. I thought you'd gone home, but Eric said..."

"That my mother doesn't want to see me?" Serena grinned at him. "Yep. He was right."

"Hey," Nate murmured, and he took the bar stool in front of her. "Of course she wants to see you."

"I'm a mess," Serena mumbled back. "And I'm always going to be a mess. I don't know how to function if I don't have Blair to look after me - but she manages just fine without me. She doesn't need me. All these years I thought she did, and I was wrong."

"Well, she didn't look so great today when I saw her." He caught Serena's hands, tugging the bottle from them. "And if you're a mess...then I definitely am too." He smiled up at her.

With her hands in his their noses were almost brushing. And she thought about how easy it would be to have sex with him right on this bar. To share more champagne and unbutton his shirt and pull him to her. "I really want to kiss you," she whispered against him. She smiled, sadly, and ran her hands through his hair. "A lot."

He caught her cheek, closing his eyes. "I'm gonna take you home."

"Ok."

She slipped her hand into his, slowly, and let him help her down from the bar. And then she let herself lean on him as he took her out of the empty room, his arm round her and her head on his shoulder.

* * *

"Miss Blair?"

Dorota seemed surprised to see her back.

"How was the party? You not celebrate with Mister Chuck?"

"No." Blair walked straight past her and up to her room, shutting the maid out. She ignored her reflection because she couldn't stand to look at it. And she lay down alone on her cold bed, fully dressed, pooled in pink silk crepe. She felt too drained to even cry.

* * *

**A/N - Soo...apologies for all the angst in this chapter heh. CB on the show are also driving me crazy, but I promise I won't torture you all with ridiculous obstacles and pacts? I have to admit that I am a fan of angst, but only when there's a reason for it. I'm really glad that you all enjoyed the last chapter, and thank you so much for all your lovely reviews! **


	15. Chapter 15

'_Bass_._ You'd better be prepared for some serious celebration tonight. I'm thinking we start on the roof and work our way down...I can't wait. And thank you for the dress. It's...amazing. I'll see you tonight.' _

Her voice curled with happiness over the machine.

Chuck sat alone in his suite, scotch bottle long empty. And the stupid message filled the room - her voice, the pure delight in it as she said his name. He hadn't seen the message till the early hours of the morning. Till it was too late.

They'd had fights before. Over stupid things - auctions and schemes when they were both too stubborn to back down. Whenever they'd had those fights she'd stormed after him or he'd stormed after her and they'd ended up having sex. Hot, angry sex. Their mouths would crash and their bodies would slam into each other and they'd break pieces of furniture.

She'd stopped speaking to him when Bart had suggested he take Serena out. She'd tried to cut him out. But he hadn't let her - he'd made himself unavoidable even as Bart and Lily were talking business mergers. Then when he'd found out -

When he'd found out, Blair had been the first person he'd told and she'd helped him instantly. She'd tried to make it very clear that she was just there for Serena and they were never so much as kissing again. She'd glared at him when he'd got too close, pushed him off and smacked him and tried to act like her heart rate hadn't sped up and her breathing hadn't shortened. But he'd known her too well. Known her body and her reactions so well that she hadn't been able to fool him for a second.

Except all of that had been when Carter Baizen was halfway across the world and they could pretend he didn't exist.

Chuck had gone too far and he knew it. He'd thrown _Harold_ in her face. Not just Carter and not just the 'I love you'. He'd been cruel to her, deliberately. They both knew how to be cruel to each other. They knew how to hurt each other like no one else did. He knew exactly what to say to hurt her - he'd told her she was broken because he'd known she couldn't stand even the thought of it. The thought of being broken or weak or dependent on anyone.

He'd been scared and angry and jealous and he'd wanted to hurt her.

He'd brought up Baizen and he couldn't take it back now - and she hadn't said anything. She'd frozen, just like he'd known that she would. She'd frozen because it was Carter.

_'Bass. You'd better be prepared for some serious celebration...'_

* * *

"Miss Blair! Telephone for you."

Blair sat up in bed. Her eyes were tired and her throat was sore. The Givenchy dress lay over her chair where she'd eventually thrown it - a pink slash of failure.

"Tell Laurel I'm taking a sick day. The designs are all in place and she doesn't need any more of my help. If there's really a disaster, then-"

"Is not Laurel."

Blair paused. Who else would be calling her? (Not Serena, that was for sure).

The maid popped her head round the door. "Is gentleman, Miss Blair."

A gentleman? A gentleman. And at that, Blair swung her legs out of bed. Because he was_ not_ a gentleman. So he was calling? He'd ruined her night and he was _calling_ her? At the very least she would have expected a personal visit with macaroons and peonies. She was going to give him a piece of her mind. He'd told her she was_ broken_ -

Dorota scuttled out of her way as she flew down the stairs and snatched up the receiver.

"I'm not talking to you, Bass. You're a stupid selfish-"

"It's Carter."

Blair froze, still clutching the receiver. "Oh," she managed at last. She hated the sudden drop in her stomach, the unbearable sinking of her heart. It wasn't Chuck. Chuck wasn't calling. And now she had to have a conversation with Carter. Now she was stuck talking to Carter - because of course she was. "What do you want?" she asked coldly.

"I spoke to the lawyers again this morning. I think we might be able to figure something out-"

"It doesn't matter." Blair's fingernails dug into the telephone. Chuck hadn't called. Chuck wasn't calling.

"Come on," Carter sighed down the line. "Blair."

Why? Why had he spoken to the lawyers? _You really think Baizen is back because he cares about his father's company? You really think that's why he's staying in New York and going to duck ponds and lawyers' meetings?_ Chuck's voice echoed in her ears and she hated it. Because his voice wasn't there in real life and he wasn't calling her.

"You said yourself that you don't care," Blair snapped flatly. "And neither do I. So just drop it."

"You cared yesterday."

Blair was tempted the throw the telephone across the room. The idle smugness in his tone. The tone that he'd always used before to let her know he knew her. "Well, I changed my mind," she bit. "You should know what that's like." Why she was still even talking to him? Because she was angry and Chuck wasn't calling and she couldn't yell at him. Or maybe because she'd had _enough. _

_You can't think about Baizen because then you'd have to admit that you let him break you. _

No one broke Blair Waldorf. No one.

Chuck couldn't think she was broken. And she was going to prove to him that she damn well could speak to Carter Baizen. Chuck was wrong and Serena was wrong.

"What are you talking about, Blair?"

And it spilled out of her like ice. "You cared about your father's company and now you don't. You cared about your life here, and look how easily that changed. You cared about-"

She stopped. She couldn't bring herself to say it. She couldn't. _Me._

She heard him exhale. "Waldorf. I never cared about my father's company. And the only thing I cared about in my life here - the only thing I still care about-" He stopped himself just like she had. "Look," he muttered eventually. "What did Bass do?"

She slammed the receiver down.

"Miss Blair?"

Dorota was looking at her very nervously.

"Do you-"

"I'm going to the atelier." Blair pushed past the maid without a backwards glance. "I have work to do."

Her hands were shaking.

Chuck hadn't called. Chuck wasn't going to call.

* * *

The knocking at Chuck's door woke him from the depths of a scotch-fuelled sleep. He'd spent the past several days holed up in his suite because he'd needed to lay low where Bart was concerned. And because he couldn't face -

But now there was someone knocking at his door. On his fifteenth birthday Serena had decided they needed to go out. He'd lashed out at her, and he'd lashed out at Nate and finally Blair because the laughter and choruses of _Happy Birthday _had been too much and he'd been perfectly happy _celebrating _his birthday and the anniversary of his mother's death alone with a couple of call girls. He'd lashed out and then disappeared to his suite. Only Blair had kept knocking till he'd opened the door, so that she could yell at him for snapping at all of them and force him to drink a pint of water.

Someone was knocking now. And even though it made no sense because he'd given her a key since then and she had no reason to knock -

It wasn't her standing on the other side of the door.

Chuck released the ridiculous breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Of course it wasn't her. "Lily." He was aware that he probably looked a mess, dressed in silk pyjamas with his dark hair stood up at various angles. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She'd already swept in to his room. She raised an eyebrow at the empty scotch bottles, glancing at him, but chose not to comment. "I hope you don't mind me dropping round like this. I came to see how you were."

Chuck regarded her. "I'm not the one who just called off my engagement," he pointed out.

Lily sighed as she took a seat on his sofa. "How are you, Charles?"

"Never better."

"Your father's been in Europe for the past week."

"Can't say I noticed," Chuck muttered back.

Lily gazed down at him. "Charles. I meant what I said. After you and Serena broke up you stopped talking to us - and I don't want that to happen again." She shook her head. "I may not be speaking to your father, but that doesn't extend to you."

Chuck tilted his head at her. "Why are you really here?" he murmured at last. "Are you hoping I can answer questions about him?"

The woman rolled her eyes a little. "I'm here for you." She gave the room a brief appraisal again. "You obviously need _someone_ here."

(He had someone. He'd had someone).

He was losing that someone. He was losing her.

"Lily."

She glanced at him.

"You're better off without my father."

She smiled, slightly, and patted his hand.

* * *

_The only thing I still care about - _

Goddamn it.

Carter hadn't been able to complete the sentence. Because he'd realised in that moment just how true it was. The only thing he'd ever put any effort into was Blair. He liked scotch and he liked partying but the only thing he'd never got bored of was her. And he'd been so frustrated with everything else for so long that he'd taken her for granted. He'd ignored her. She'd been the only thing that he'd missed, the only thing that he'd refused to think about while he was away.

He hadn't come back for his father's company.

He hadn't not got on that plane to Australia because of his father or a sudden love for New York.

He'd stayed for her.

He'd stayed for her, and he'd had enough of sitting around feeling guilty and refusing to acknowledge it. He'd stayed for her, and he was damn well going to get her back. Whatever it took. However long it took - he was going to get her back.

* * *

Blair was aware that something was different when she returned to her penthouse. She'd spent yet another long day throwing herself into work at Waldorf Designs - because Paris was the only thing she needed to focus on. (Obviously Chuck hadn't called).

But now there was the distinctive smell of cooking that definitely hadn't been present in the apartment for a long time. Which could only mean one thing.

"Blair!" Cyrus emerged from the kitchen, arms spread. He beamed as she hugged him - and she was surprised at how glad she was to see him, how comforting his short arms were as she embraced him. She was even glad when he pulled her back for another hug because obviously one was not enough.

"Why are you back from Paris?" she laughed when he finally released her. "Is mother-"

"Your mother's in bed." Cyrus was leading her into the kitchen, where the scent of hot food was overwhelming. "She's exhausted. And you don't look much better," he wagged a finger at her. "What have you been doing?"

"Miss Blair has hardly eaten all week," Dorota piped up, taking a steaming dish of roast chicken out of the oven. "She only work."

Blair sent the maid a quick glare. "Don't exaggerate."

"Is not exaggeration," Dorota grumbled back. But she left Cyrus and Blair to get on with it as Blair's eyes slanted dangerously.

"So, how was Paris?" Blair's tone switched back to eager. She allowed Cyrus to heap her plate up with chicken and asparagus as she sat down at the kitchen counter. "How's monsieur Givenchy? Did you get a chance to meet-"

"Actually, that's why we're back." Cyrus glanced at her.

Her mother was in bed. Eleanor never usually went straight to bed. But Blair kept her voice light, refused to let her smile waver. "He wanted more designs?"

"No," Cyrus sighed. His hand covered Blair's for a moment. "I'm afraid monsieur Givenchy has pulled out of your mother's company. I'm so sorry, Blair."

Blair's fork clattered to her plate. "There must be some kind of mistake." No. No, she couldn't lose Paris. Not on top of everything else. She couldn't lose Givenchy. She _couldn't._

"There's not," Cyrus promised very gently. "Your mother and I both know how much this meant to you-"

"I'm not hungry." Blair pushed the plate of food away and got to her feet. She swallowed. "Is...my mother ok?" She needed something, anything to distract from the sudden lump in her throat. This couldn't be happening.

"She's upset, of course. And not very impressed." More like she was absolutely furious, Blair bet. "But there'll be other designers," he assured her.

There wouldn't be another Givenchy. There wouldn't. "I'm...excuse me."

Blair turned and walked out of the kitchen, and she felt oddly detached as she headed up the stairs. The pink dress was still out. She picked it up, silently, and shoved it to the back of her closet. Out of sight. She felt sick just touching it. No more Paris. No more Givenchy.

Chuck hadn't called. There was no angry make-up sex. He'd told she was broken and he wasn't calling. She hated him. Hated him, hated him, hated him. And she hated Givenchy and she hated Paris. She hated him. The tears that she hadn't shed all week were finally blurring her vision as she stumbled over to her bed. She hated the tears and she hated Chuck.

She wouldn't cry. Blair Waldorf didn't cry. Those weren't her pathetic tears that she brushed away, furious, while she sank down on her mattress.

No Serena. No Chuck. No Paris.

She hated all of them. But most of all, she hated him.

* * *

Bart's secretary had informed Chuck that his father wasn't due back from Europe until the evening, which was why Chuck had agreed to lunch with Lily and Eric. He knew that once the man got back he'd have to cut them off again. He couldn't risk Bart getting even a hint that he was on their side.

According to Eric, Serena was out with Nate - so it was just the two van der Woodsens and him sat round the table at their penthouse. (And the thought of cutting them off again was getting more and more painful). He shouldn't have come to the lunch at all, but Lily had been quite firm. And now he was listening to Eric laugh and joke and wondering, like a fool, what it would have been like if they really were brothers. If the van der Woodsens really were his family.

"You should come to Val d'Isere with us this Christmas," Eric was saying. "It was so great last time you came."

Last time had been before Chuck and Serena were even engaged - when Lily was between husbands and before Carter had left. Carter was supposed to have been spending that Christmas in Rome, so it had just been the Waldorfs, Archibalds and van der Woodsens. Bart was working. Chuck had stayed in the van der Woodsen chalet because it was the biggest, and he'd found himself loving every second of it. He and Nate had taken a twelve year-old Eric on the highest slopes, and they'd had snowball fights with Serena and Blair and ended every day at Lily's with rich hot chocolate. Carter had shown up as a surprise on Christmas eve, citing Rome as too boring and holding a beautifully wrapped gift for Blair.

But for once, Chuck had had a real Christmas day with the van der Woodsens and he'd finally understood Blair's flushed cheeks and excitement for the holiday.

He couldn't go to Val d'Isere with them this Christmas. It would look too suspicious. By this Christmas he wasn't even going to be talking to them again.

He was luckily saved from answering when Larissa appeared to tell Lily that there was an urgent telephone call for her. The woman rolled he eyes and excused herself - when were telephone calls ever not 'urgent'?

Once she was gone, Eric glanced at Chuck. "I'm glad we're talking again."

"Yeah." Chuck pressed his knife into his fish. "Me too." He had to start being distant with him. He was good at cutting people off and he needed to start now. He just didn't want to, and the fact that he had another three hours before Bart would even land at the airport was making it harder.

"Chuck." Eric hesitated. "I was...mad at you, when Blair told everyone about Serena. Serena told me it was because she loved you. And Serena was so hurt-"

"Blair didn't do it because she loves me."

Eric looked at him for a moment. "Why else would she do it?"

_To protect Serena. To protect all of you._ The same reason Chuck had done it.

"Chuck?" Eric was staring now.

"Charles," Lily re-emerged and sat back down at the table. "Do you have any idea what's going on with your father?" She sighed at his blank look. "That was Eleanor Waldorf. Apparently she just found out that Bass Industries bought out her latest designer. She hasn't been able to get in touch with him, so she was hoping that I might be able to. She's livid."

Chuck froze. What? That wasn't possible. "Givenchy?" he asked slowly. "He bought out Givenchy?"

"Apparently." Lily shook her head. "Honestly, I had no idea that he was even interested in fashion."

"He's not," Chuck snarled. He'd already got to his feet. "I'm sorry, Lily. Thank you for lunch." He was in the elevator before either Lily or Eric could stop him.

* * *

"Blair?"

Cyrus popped his head around her bedroom door.

"There's a young man for you downstairs."

Blair didn't move from her bed. "Tell Carter I don't care about his stupid lawyers." God, why couldn't he just leave her alone? Why couldn't everyone just leave her alone?

"It's Chuck."

She stilled. And she hated it - she hated the stupid bubble of hope, the sudden leap in her heart. He was _here_. But she quashed it as soon as it came because he was too late and there was no way that she was letting him see her like this. Broken and pathetic because she'd lost Givenchy.

"Tell him to go away," she said rigidly.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? He seems very keen to see you."

She hugged her kneed closer under the comforter. No, he wasn't going to see her pale and miserable and still in bed in her pyjamas. "I don't want to see him."

"Blair-"

"Just get him out, Cyrus!" She wasn't aware of just how much her voice had risen. She sank back down onto the pillow. "Please."

Her stepfather nodded and turned away, closing her door behind him.

"I'm sorry, Chuck." Cyrus climbed down the stairs to where the young man stood waiting. "She's in bed."

"I know that. I need to see her."

Cyrus noticed a paleness to his expression, something burning in his dark eyes. "She doesn't really want to see anyone," he said regretfully.

"I need to see her," Chuck repeated - and for a moment he looked like he was going to push past the shorter man anyway.

Cyrus moved to block him. "Between you and me, I think she could do with a good hug. But she told me she didn't want to see you, and I have to respect her wishes." He sighed. "Maybe you can come back tomorrow?"

"Cyrus." Chuck refused to relent. "I need to talk to her now."

Cyrus opened his mouth to answer - and the elevator dinged. Chuck turned to see Carter Baizen emerge. Oh, great. Fucking fantastic. Baizen ignored him; he glanced at Cyrus instead. He had no idea who the man was, but he was surprised that the Waldorfs would employ such an ugly doorman.

"I'm here to see Blair," he informed him. He was already on the way to the stairs.

"Now wait just a moment," Cyrus stopped him. "Blair doesn't want to see anyone. Who are you?"

Carter gave him a dismissive look. "Well, I thought the Waldorfs trained their help better than that. I'm Carter Baizen. And trust me, she wants to see me."

Cyrus cocked his head. "So you're Carter?" He'd heard all about Carter Baizen courtesy of Eleanor. "I think Blair said something about not caring about you or your stupid lawyers - so I'll have to ask you to leave, Mr. Baizen."

Carter curled his lip in disbelief. He didn't take orders from hideous little members of staff. "Who-"

"This is Cyrus," Chuck intercut coolly. "Blair's stepfather."

Carter's eyes narrowed. "What? Where the hell is Harold?" Harold had always loved him. Harold, he knew, would have let him up the stairs no problem. He stared at the gnome in front of him. Eleanor Waldorf had married _that_? Blair must have had a fit. And since when were Harold and Eleanor divorced, for Christ's sake? "Look," he brushed it off, "I need to see Blair. So if you'll excuse me-"

"Cyrus just said she didn't want to see you," Chuck growled.

Carter rounded on him. "Oh, and you're waiting down here because she's desperate to see you instead? She doesn't need a guard dog, Bass. And whatever the hell you did to her-"

"_What_ is going on?" Eleanor was now standing in the room, arms folded. She glared between the two of them. "In case you hadn't noticed, _I_ don't want to see either of you. Get out." And, when they looked like they were going to protest - "_Now._" Her gaze zeroed on Chuck. "And you can tell your father," she called after him him, "That we'll see each other in court."

She didn't stop until the elevator doors had closed and the pair of them were out of her penthouse.

Then there was a voice from the stairs. "What are you talking about? What does Bart have to do with this?" Blair was staring down at her and Cyrus, face white.

* * *

The elevator journey was silent all the way down to the ground floor.

"Are you in love with her, Bass?" Carter's voice was full of derision. "Is that why you're suddenly so protective? Why you're always shadowing her?" He snorted. "Because I hate to break it you, but I really don't think you've got a shot."

He strode out of the elevator.

Chuck's hand fisted.

* * *

Blair didn't care that she was still wearing just her slip and dressing gown. She ignored her mother's alarmed protests and Cyrus's look of concern. She moved into the elevator as soon as it came back up, shutting the sliding doors in their faces.

The stupid thing seemed to _inch _down the building. She needed to get to him. They needed to talk - they needed to work out what to do.

Bart had stolen Givenchy.

And that could only mean one thing - Bart knew.

Bart knew, and that meant that Chuck was in trouble. That meant that all of their plans were ruined and everything they'd tried so hard to prevent was happening. She had to get to Chuck. She had to get to him.

She hurried out as soon as the doors opened, scanning the foyer and ignoring the coldness of the marble under her bare feet. He was outside. He had his back to her and he was in the process of getting into his car.

She ran.

"Chuck!"

But he couldn't hear her through the glass - and by the time she'd wrenched the door open and was standing outside on the street, his car was disappearing down the road.

She had to -

"Blair."

Cyrus had come out behind her. He caught her arm, face creased.

"I need to talk to Chuck."

"You need to get dressed," her stepfather said kindly. "And you need to eat something."

"But-"

He was already steering her inside. "You haven't eaten in nearly two days, and if you carry on then you're going to faint." He fixed her with a look that was almost stern. As stern as Cyrus could be, because he never took no for an answer. "You can call him after you try some of Dorota's bouillabaisse."

* * *

Chuck had worked out what to do. He was going to go to the airport and head his father off, which was why his car was currently racing out of Manhattan. He was going to make Bart stop. He was going to talk to him, and _make_ him give Givenchy back to the Waldorfs. Back to Blair.

They'd been careful. There was no possible way that his father could actually have proof that he and Blair had been seeing each other. There couldn't be. So Chuck was going to convince the man that he was wrong, that he'd made a mistake and this had nothing to do with her.

_If you allow some slut to get in my way, Chuck - _

Chuck was going to stop him.

* * *

Eleanor had made it perfectly clear that Blair would not be going anywhere. She would most certainly _not_ be going to see Chuck Bass, in any case.

"You are not talking to anyone from that family unless there's a lawyer present. And what on earth was Carter Baizen doing here? If you've actually taken him back, Blair, then I give up."

Blair swallowed forkful after forkful of bouillabaisse just to get Cyrus off her back and tuned her mother out. She waited until Eleanor's back was turned and then snuck out of the room to call Chuck.

There was no answer.

"You'd better not be calling who I think you're calling!"

Glowering, Blair was forced to return to the dining room table.

* * *

It had been a long flight from Paris. The last thing that Bart Bass wanted when his driver picked him up and opened his car door was to see Chuck already sitting in the vehicle.

"Father."

Bart repressed a sigh and yanked the door shut. He regarded his son evenly. "What are you doing here?"

"Why did you buy out Givenchy?"

Bart ignored the coldness in the boy's dark eyes. "I think you already know the answer to that."

"I don't," Chuck said shortly. "As far as I know the Waldorfs never did anything to you."

Bart leaned back against the leather seats. "Do you remember our conversation last year, Chuck?" His eyebrows were raised. "I told you what would happen if you made yourself a nuisance."

Chuck had informed his father he had no particular desire to take Serena out any more. Bart had replied that the plans had already been made - and his son would not only carry on seeing her, but propose after a few months. And if he didn't, then there woud be consequences.

_I don't care who you're screwing, Chuck. End it. Because if you allow some slut to get in my way then you're not going to be the only one who pays the price. _

"Well, I wasn't aware I had been." Chuck kept his tone pleasant.

"Save it," Bart intoned. "I know it was you. And I think we both know the real reason your engagement ended, don't we?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You tried to destroy all my plans because you wanted to sleep with the Waldorf girl." Bart scoffed. "A _girl_. Frankly, even if you hadn't disobeyed me this would still be the right decision. It's quite obvious that you don't have what it takes to run my company - and you never have." He brushed a speck of dust off his suit. "I've got you a ticket to Sydney for the end of the month. Jack's expecting you. You're never going to see the inside of anything to do with Bass Industries here."

"I'm not going to Australia."

Bart spared him a glance. "I told you this would happen, and you did it anyway. I'm not exactly giving you the choice."

Chuck flexed his jaw. "Well, if you're disinheriting me then you don't have any more control over what I do."

There was silence. Bart smiled, slightly. "You think it ends at one insignificant designer, Chuck? You think it ends at Waldorf Designs?" He cocked his head at his son. "If you stay in New York then I can promise you you're not going to be the only one left with nothing." He called out for the driver to stop. "You can make your own way from here. You obviously have a lot to think about."

Chuck's gaze was black and furious. "You're not going to be able to destroy the Waldorfs."

"You're right," Bart chuckled. "I've never managed to destroy a company or crush a family before." He gave his son another condescending smile. "And it's not like the Waldorfs have any skeletons in their closet. I'm sure they'll bounce back from scandal. Thousands of dollars in legal fees. Losing all their buyers. I'm sure your girlfriend won't mind, either - the two of you can live on love." He shook his head in amusement.

Chuck jerked the handle of the car door and slammed it, hard, behind him.

The smile slid off Bart's face as he drove away and left his son on the roadside.

* * *

Blair had to wait until Eleanor and Cyrus went to bed before she even had the chance to slip out. How old was she, twelve? It was ridiculous. She stood in the foyer as the car was pulled round, buttoned up against the now cool night air in a cream lined cape coat.

She gave her driver the instructions for the Palace hotel; and she was on the edge of her seat the entire car journey. How had Bart even found out? They'd been so careful - he couldn't have any real proof. She and Chuck were going to come up with a plan and they were going to stop this, just like they always did.

He _wasn't_ getting disinherited and he _wasn't_ going to live with his slimy uncle in Australia. There was no way Blair was going to let that happen. There was no way Blair was letting him lose his company.

She fingered the key to his suite all the way there, once the car finally reached its destination and she was finally heading through the hotel lobby, and she pushed aside the memory of the last disastrous time she'd been here. They had much bigger things to worry about now.

She hesitated for just a moment outside his door. Should she knock?

Then she wondered what the hell she was thinking and slid the key into the door to let herself in.

The suite inside was dark. She paused in the doorway. "Chuck?" There was no answer, and she reached for the light switch - but then a hand closed around her wrist. She could only just make him out, but she was aware that something was very very wrong. They were going to fix this. It would be all right. She was going to fix it.

"What are you doing here?"

She could feel his breath on her, the gleam of his eyes in the darkness. "I heard." She swallowed. "About Bart. We need to get to work."

He was still holding her wrist. "_We_ don't need to do anything." He released her so abruptly that she almost stumbled. But she pulled herself upright, reaching for him.

"Don't be stupid. Chuck-"

"I'm sorry about Givenchy." His voice was hollow.

She strained to see him, to make out his face. "I think we have a bigger problem than a fashion designer," she said impatiently. "I had an idea on the way here-"

"Just go."

"_Go_?" she echoed. "How are we meant to solve this problem if I_ go_? We're wasting time here, Bass. Do you want to hear my idea or not?"

"It's not your problem to solve," was all he responded.

She ignored him. "Look, we need to convince Bart that he's wrong-"

"It's not going to work. Go home, Blair."

She finally stopped, frustrated. "What's wrong with you? We're going to fix this." She wanted the damn light on so she could see his face; she turned towards the light switch again in irritation. Only she turned too fast and it was too dark and her hip hit the side table. Hard. She hissed in pain. "Why on earth," she demanded furiously, "Are you sitting in the pitch black-"

"_Watch it_." He suddenly had hold of her arms again. His body was pinning hers to the wall and she realised then that she'd been about to crash into the coat stand. His hand slid to her hip, just where she'd hit it, and she grit her teeth at his touch. She was going to have a bruise there tomorrow.

"Well," she snapped back, "If you had the lights on-"

"Go _home_. Go back to Carter."

And at that, she twisted her arms out his hold to grab the front of his shirt. She yanked his face down to hers. "What is _wrong_ with you? I'm not leaving this suite until we work out how we're going to stop Bart."

"Why do you care?" he hissed. She could feel him mere fractions from her, feel the hot anger that poured out of him. But he didn't get to be angry because they were going to figure this out. They'd stopped Bart before and they'd do it again.

"Chuck. It's going to be fine."

"It's not," his fingers moved her hip, almost savage against the tender skin, "Going to be _fine_."

She stared up at him, at his harsh breathing and the angry thud of his heart so close to hers. "Of course it is."

He still had her pressed against the wall. And when his lips came down over hers they were hard and desperate and unforgiving. Her fingers were still curled around his shirt as her breath caught. He pulled back. He pulled back, and he dropped her. "Go home."

She wanted to snarl back that she _was _home but the words stuck in her throat, so she stumbled after him instead, reaching for him in the black. She was angry now. She felt his shirt sleeve, grabbed his wrist as he jerked free and then there was something in the way, something that he was caught on and they were both crashing into the sofa. She landed on top of him and struggled to pin his hands above his head. "Chuck-"

And then they were kissing.

And this time he didn't pull back. He pulled her down with him and unbuttoned her coat, pushed it aside as his mouth buried in her sweet skin. All she could feel was sheer relief and elation as she kissed him back, arched her body up into him and tugged his shirt off. She dug her nails into his back and found his mouth into the darkness so that he couldn't get away.

It was all going to be fine.

She hadn't lost him. They were going to fix this.

* * *

She'd fallen asleep on his bare chest, stretched at an awkward angle on the sofa but seemingly entirely content as she curled into him, her sweaty limbs entangled with his.

The bruise on her hip had already started to form.

He could see it in the dawn light that filtered through the window.

He shouldn't have done it. He should have driven her out last night, shouldn't have so much as touched her. Her kisses were burnt on his lips. Cut her out. He had to do exactly what he'd done with the van der Woodsens, and he was supposed to be good at that.

He touched the bruise, the mark that marred her pale skin, and she made a noise in her sleep. It hurt. Then her eyes were fluttering open and she was pushing against him to glance, drowsily, up at his face. Her lips turned in a smile. She sat up on top of him and set her hands on his chest.

"So," she murmured as her lips trailed his skin, "What's the plan?"

He took hold of her wrists and he sat up too, holding her off him. His body was hard underneath hers. "I'm going to Australia."

It was like he'd kicked her. "You're...what? You can't just give up. I told you we're going to-"

"I'm not giving up. I want to go."

She stared at him. Her dark hair was tangled from sex and sleep but she wasn't smiling any more. "What are you talking about?" He was lying because he couldn't even look at her. And she knew when Chuck Bass was lying. She knew that he didn't want to go to Australia. Hadn't they spent the past _year_-

"I want out. I'm sick of my father," Chuck's lip twisted, "And at least in Australia I won't have to deal with him."

"He's cutting you out of _your_ company!"

"Bass Industries has never been mine. I don't want it."

Blair couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. Except she knew he was lying because she knew Chuck. Because Bass Industries was _everything_ to him. New York was everything to him. He was_ lying_. But why?

"You're not a coward." Her brown eyes stung. "I'm not letting you run away just because you think we can't beat him. We _will_."

"When are you going to get," Chuck murmured very tightly, "That here is no _we_." He finally turned his gaze on her. "I'm going to Australia. Not you. We're not _together_, Blair."

She refused to let the words affect her because she knew he was lying. "I know you don't want to go to Australia."

He closed his eyes. "Just like you knew Carter didn't want to go?" It dripped poison.

She couldn't breathe. "_Stop-_"

"You've got a clear shot at him now, Waldorf. You don't need a stand in."

"You're _lying_." She knew him and she knew that he'd rather die than live the rest of his life on the other side of the world. He wouldn't be a Bass in the outback. She knew him. It was Chuck and she knew him.

"I want out." He looked at her and he quite deliberately emptied his face of all expression. "You're the only one who always wants to stay. You're the only one who wants this life."

She shook her head. "I don't believe you."

"Believe whatever makes you feel better." He shrugged even though his entire body felt rigid. Shrugged like he could have cared less. "This time next month, I'm not going to be here." He gazed at her for the final blow. "But at least I'm warning you first."

* * *

**A/N - Um, yes. More angst. Forgive me? :) Thank you so much for all your reviews! I really hope Chuck doesn't come across as too cruel in this chapter...and I feel a bit like the mean writers who took away Yale for no good reason, by taking away Givenchy - but unlike the writers, I'm not here to ensure that everything that Blair ever does apparently goes wrong? Promise. **


	16. Chapter 16

_"Carter, honey. I know you're busy but I'd really like to speak to you. Could you call me?"_

Carter rolled his eyes as he listened to the message from his mother. He'd been staying in the St. Regis precisely because he couldn't stand to be in that stifling penthouse. Plus he had a game set up for tonight. It seemed Victoria had tracked him down and got through to the hotel's reception.

He had no doubt now that she was only calling because she wanted help with something. Help that her husband wasn't there to offer for something that she already knew how to do. He swore to God, if he had to go to one more fucking lawyers' meeting -

He'd sort it later.

* * *

"Nathaniel." Lily smiled as she came into the breakfast room - Serena and Nate were sitting at the table sharing a plate of pancakes. She raised an eyebrow at the pair of them. "I hope you're not going to tell me you stayed the night."

Nate hastily cleared his throat. "Serena invited me round for breakfast." He grinned up at her, adorable. Serena smirked a little. (Although she couldn't quite stop thinking _if only. _They were friends. They were friends and things were finally getting back to how they'd used to be between them).

"I'm very glad to hear it." Lily was quite dry. But it was very hard not to smile back at Nate Archibald. "I was wondering if you'd seen Chuck at all," she sighed.

Nate frowned. "Not for a while." When _was_ the last time he'd seen his best friend? He'd assumed he'd been busy with work. "Actually, not since your engagement p..." He stopped himself as Serena glanced down and Lily's eyebrows shot up again. "Uh, not for a while." He attempted the same grin.

"Well, I'm worried about him," Lily murmured. "He hasn't returned my calls all week."

Serena rolled her eyes. "It's Chuck. He's probably in his suite with-" Nate exchanged a look with her and she rolled her eyes again. "I'm sure he's fine."

"He was supposed to be coming for dinner last night," her mother was frowning. "It's not like him to not show up."

"Maybe he had something better to do," Serena suggested. Or someone. After all, it wasn't like Blair to betray her best -

"I'll go to the Palace." Nate threw the blonde another quick glance. "See how he is."

Lily had always known she liked her daughter's friend for a reason. "Thank you, Nathaniel. I'd go myself, but since Bart's back..."

"I'll let you know."

Lily smiled and left.

"You know who else I haven't seen since that party?" Nate realised after a moment. "Blair."

And at that, Serena scoffed. "So Chuck_ and_ Blair are missing. What a surprise." She pulled a face at him. "I doubt you want to go to his suite at the moment."

Nate's eyes widened. "You really think they've been - I mean, for weeks?_"_

Serena just shook her head. "Blair's probably still celebrating."

* * *

"I have a flight to catch in two hours, Cyrus. I don't have time for this."

"But Blair is not ok," the man insisted. "She's been in bed, she's not speaking-"

"She's upset about Givenchy," Eleanor said impatiently. "She got too invested in the deal - it's just her ridiculous Hepburn obsession. And in the mean time _I_ need to go to Paris to find a new designer."

"Eleanor-"

"Good morning."

They both turned in surprise. Blair was out of bed. Fully dressed. She wore a brightly printed shift dress with a headband and red lipstick. Blusher covered her pale cheeks and her smile was wide and fixed.

"You're up," Eleanor blinked.

"Yes. My stomach flu has gone. I'm feeling much better."

Her mother looked at her stepfather. "Well, that's...good." She smiled in satisfaction. "You see, Cyrus. She's fine."

"I'm actually just headed to the hairdresser's. And then I was thinking I'd go to Bendels. I need to update my summer wardrobe."

"I think that's a very good idea," Eleanor nodded her approval. She kissed Cyrus's cheek. "Now, if you don't mind?"

Cyrus reluctantly kissed his wife goodbye. "Blair," he called out before the girl could get into the elevator. "I was thinking of making reservations at Le Pavilion tonight for dinner."

"One of the best French restaurants in New York?" Blair's smile grew even wider. "It'll be just like we're in Paris. Unfortunately I've arranged a massage for tonight-"

"So cancel it," Eleanor waved a hand. "Cyrus wants to take you out to dinner, Blair." Blair smiled again. Eleanor blew her an air kiss. "I'll see you next week."

It wasn't until she got into the elevator that Blair's smile disappeared. She was fine. She was _absolutely_ fine.

* * *

She wasn't absolutely fine when she walked out of the hairdressers one hour later and found Carter Baizen standing on the street. She made a noise of disbelief. "Oh, you've got be kidding me."

He was leant idly against the wall in a loose shirt; he got up as she approached. "Good morning to you too."

"Why are you here?" she spat. "Don't tell me you had a hairdresser's appointment."

"No." Blair was furious when she realised he'd fallen into her step. "I came to see you this morning," he explained languidly, "But when I got your penhouse I saw you getting into your car."

"So you decided to follow me. And then you waited outside for an hour like some kind of creepy stalker?"

"I always used to wait for you when you had a hairdresser's appointment - I don't remember you calling me a creepy stalker then." _Then_ she'd insisted it was something a boyfriend was supposed to do. Then she'd used to smile every time she saw him waiting for her - and he knew she remembered it too. "Besides. You won't let me into your penthouse," he pointed out. "Or at least your mother won't. What happened with her and Harold?"

"Why do you care?" she snapped. God, why couldn't he just go away? She couldn't handle him. Not now. She was supposed to be better and absolutely fine and she didn't need him popping up at every corner. All the time._ All t_he time.

"Where is he, Blair?"

The sun was too bright. The sun was too bright and the damn hairdresser had curled her hair too tight. She didn't _need _this. "Can you just leave me alone?"

"Blair-"

"He's in France, all right?" She wheeled on him. "He left us for someone else." Carter stared. "I guess you miss out on all the gossip when you disappear for three years." Her tone was venomous as she shoved past him. "Now _go away_."

* * *

It was eerily quiet when Nate got to Chuck's suite.

He paused outside for a moment, just to make sure that there were no...noises. He didn't want to hear Blair's voice. Not like that. And he definitely didn't want to open the door and catch them -

He decided knocking was the best policy. "Uh, Chuck? Are you in there, man?"

"No. I'm here."

Nate was suddenly aware of the smell of alcohol in the corridor, and he turned to see Chuck watching him with a cocked head. Nate tried very hard not to do a double take because his best friend looked a mess. In fact, Nate didn't think he'd ever seen him look so bad. He didn't even look like he'd _shaved. _

Chuck Bass always shaved.

His hair was in disarray and his shirt was untucked and his tie nowhere to be seen.

"What?"

"Nothing," Nate managed in the end. "Uh...nothing. Are you ok?"

"I'm great," Chuck purred back. "Thanks." He swung open the door of his suite without bothering to see that Nate was following - Nate headed after him in bewilderment.

"Chuck-"

"Scotch?" he enquired. He'd already pulled out a bottle.

"What's going on?"

"What's going on," Chuck raised the bottle so that a stream of amber liquid filled his glass, "Is that I'm drinking and you're looking at me like I've grown an extra head. Is there a problem, Archibald?"

Nate could only stare. "Well," he attempted, "It's twelve o'clock. I mean, shouldn't you be at the office?"

Chuck pursed his lips, tilting the glass. "You mean at dear old dad's company?" He lifted it to his lips. "No."

It was clear that his best friend didn't understand what he was saying. "Did...you and Bart have a fight?"

"No," Chuck mused. "Bart just disowned me." He picked up the bottle again, glass empty. Pointed it at the blond. "You should really try this, you know."

Nate's jaw had dropped. "Chuck. What the hell are you talking about? Bart _disowned_ you?"

"Yes." Chuck drained yet another glass. "I'm finally free of the old man. I'm actually throwing a party to celebrate next week - obviously you're invited." He reached for the bottle again with a smirk. "Sure I can't tempt you?"

"What-"

"It's also going to be my going away party," Chuck reflected. The scotch was exquisitely bitter in his mouth. "So I'd better see you there."

"Wh - where are you going?"

"Australia," he swallowed more alcohol. "One way ticket."

"Are you...kidding? Is this some kind of joke?" Although Nate wasn't entirely sure which part of any this was supposed to be funny. And Chuck wasn't smiling.

His lip twisted. "What, you're not happy for me? I thought you were _desperate_ to break out of this world, Archibald. Just think - I can live with local tribesmen and stop washing just like Carter Baizen." His voice was suddenly dripping with malice as he regarded his best friend, glass dangling from his hand. "Are you jealous?"

Nate shook his head. "_What's_ going on? Is this," he was grasping at straws, "Something to do with Blair?"

"No. This is nothing to do with _Blair_." The expression on Chuck's face had turned ugly. "You know what? You're not very good drinking company, Archibald."

He snatched up the bottle and walked out before Nate could stop him.

* * *

Serena was washing her hair, humming along to the Beach Boys as she rubbed strawberry scented shampoo into her long golden tresses. She decided she was definitely picking up on good vibrations.

She'd had the perfect morning with Nate -

"Serena?"

She stopped in surprise because she was pretty sure that was Nate's voice on the other side of the bathroom door now. She hopped out of the shower and grabbed a thick towel.

"Nate?"

"Sorry," she heard him apologise. "I really need to talk to you. I think we have a problem."

She opened the door; and they both nearly collided because she hadn't expected him to be standing so close and he hadn't expected her to come out so quickly.

"Whoa." He blinked because she was wearing just a towel and her skin was damp and she smelt of strawberries - he grinned and glanced over her. He should probably, definitely not be staring at her right now. Or enjoying the smell of her shampoo. "Sorry."

They were both stuck for a moment, grinning at each other. And then Serena cleared her throat. "So...what's the problem?"

Nate shook his head to try and get back on track. "Right. Yeah. It's Chuck." His best friend. He needed to be focusing on his best friend. "I went to his suite...and he's in a really bad state. I mean, really bad. The worst I've ever seen him. And he was saying all this crazy stuff about Bart disowning him and Australia-"

"Australia?"

"He said he he's going to Australia."

"For a business trip?"

Nate shook his head again. "I don't think so."

Serena hesitated, chewing her lip. Whatever Nate had seen had obviously worried him. And considering it was Chuck, that was saying something. Bart had _disowned_ him? And Australia? "Was...Blair wasn't there?"

"No."

Blair wasn't there. So Blair hadn't been seen for days and she hadn't been with Chuck. If Blair had been there then Serena was pretty sure she wouldn't have let Chuck get into that state in the first place. Chuck was apparently leaving. Leaving Blair. Serena exhaled. "Ok. I'll find him. You...see if you can find Blair. Work out what's going on."

She was only doing this, she told herself, because Chuck had looked after her when she was drunk. Because for some reason Lily seemed to care about his wellbeing.

It had nothing to do with Blair.

* * *

For some reason _Good Vibrations _kept playing in Nate's head as he reached the Waldorf penthouse. He tried to push it away because he was meant to be focusing. Definitely not thinking about one familiar slightly off-key voice and the beautiful sounds it made. Or the way the sunlight plays upon her hair or the colourful clothes she wears or the excitations -

"Mr. Rose." He straightened as he realised Cyrus was now standing before him in the Waldorf living room. "Hi."

"Nate!" Cyrus was just as enthusiastic as Nate remembered him. "It's wonderful to see you." He was already ushering him to sit down. "Are you here to see Blair? She's out at the moment."

"Oh." Nate's shoulders slumped a little. "Do you have any idea when she'll be back?"

Cyrus smiled, broadly. "You know, I knew Eleanor didn't need to worry. I told her Blair would have men chasing after her. I told her no one would be able to resist a Waldorf woman." He gave Nate a friendly nudge. "I'm afraid you're the third suitor this week!"

"Wha-" Nate's eyes widened as he suddenly caught on to what Cyrus was saying. "Oh. Uh, I'm not a...suitor, Mr. Rose. I'm a friend."

"Ok," Cyrus winked at him. "I'll pretend I didn't see that love struck expression on your face before I came down."

"Uh...ok." Nate shifted uncomfortably. He did love Blair, but this was a weird conversation. This was a very weird conversation. "Do you know when she'll be back?"

"She's gone to Bendels, so probably not for a while. You know what Waldorf women are like!"

Nate did. He also knew that Bendels was where Blair had always used to go with Serena. "Does she seem...ok to you? How is she?"

Cyrus's expression turned more serious. "I don't think she's happy at the moment."

And that definitely didn't bode well with the state that Chuck was in. Nate needed to find her. He got to his feet. "Ok. Thanks for letting me know."

The smile was back on Cyrus's face as he followed Nate to the elevator. "Are you going to tell her how you feel?"

For a moment Nate forgot who he was talking about. Tell her how he felt. _She's giving me the excitations. _Except it had always been a hell of a lot more than _excitations. _

"Yeah," Nate murmured. "One day."

* * *

Serena had trawled through all the bars that she'd used to frequent - that she knew Chuck frequented too - till she found him. Slumped in a plush velvet booth, scotch in hand. She sighed and dropped into the seat next to him.

"Chuck."

He ignored her, so she plucked the glass out his hand.

She crossed her arms. "Are you gonna tell me what's going on?"

Chuck gave her a nasty sideways look - and she could see that his vision was blurred with alcohol, just like hers had been so many times. Except she knew that, unlike her, Chuck could be a mean drunk.

"You know, I've been trying to work it out." He glanced at her again, but he was apparently more focused on summoning the bartender over for another drink. "There is no possible way that Bart could have found out. We were too careful. Which means that someone must have told him. And the only person who knew...was you." He picked up the new glass before she could take it off him.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about." The alcohol slid down his throat and he could barely even feel it any more. "Did it feel good?" he asked her cruelly. "Getting your revenge on her?"

Serena gazed at him for a moment. No. It hadn't felt good, and it wasn't fair. "She told everyone about me and Tripp. The only person I told was your dad, and it's not like he cares."

"Well," Chuck rolled the words, "He was the only person you had to tell."

Serena frowned. "What?" But that couldn't seriously be why Chuck was in this state now. That couldn't seriously be why - "Since when does Bart care about your love life?"

Chuck leered at her over his glass. "He wanted me to marry you, didn't he?"

"For a business deal," Serena reminded him. Then it clicked. "He realised you were the one who ruined that deal. Because of Blair." She stared at him as she tried to work it out. "That's why Blair was so desperate to keep the two of you a secret," she said slowly. "That's why _Blair_ told everyone about me instead of you. Because she knew that you'd get the blame otherwise. She knew that Bart would cut you off."

"Wrong," Chuck drawled. "That's why I did what I did. But everything Blair did," he gave her a look of the bitterest satisfaction, "Was for _you_."

He could see the confusion on her face and it felt good. It felt good.

"Didn't you ever wonder why Bart was so desperate for us to tie the knot? Did you really think," he snarled, "That you and your Rhodes money were that good of a catch? Did you really think _Bart Bass_, multi-millionaire, would be that interested in a business deal with your mother?"

Serena shook her head. "What the hell are you talking about, Chuck?"

"You're very lucky that not everyone is as clueless as you, van der Woodsen." He knocked back another drink and it felt good. It felt good. "Because I took the time to actually find out why Bart was so obsessed with your damn family. Turns out he and Lily had an affair ten years ago." He glanced at her over his glass. "Just think. We could have been siblings even then."

"What-"

"Only she cheated on him. She cheated on him with his business partner, and then she dumped him. And she really thought, ten years later, that my father was actually capable of _forgiving_ her." Chuck snorted. "Which just goes to show that she never knew him at all."

"I don't understand," Serena said in exasperation. "What are you _talking_ about?"

"Bart wanted revenge. He wanted me to marry you so that he could destroy your family. He wanted to get his hands on all Lily's money, all of her property - and he decided you were the best way to get to it. And then when that failed, he tried to go through Lily again." It was vindictive. The satisfaction that coursed through him. "The only reason he didn't succeed was because of your traitorous, betraying best friend. The one you just sold out." He smiled brutally at her and the scotch burned all over but it still wasn't enough. "So did it feel _good_?"

She left. It did, he told himself. It did feel good.

* * *

Nate had never been a fan of big department stores. And he was even less of a fan now, when he'd been forced to spend so long searching each floor, each lingerie and shoe section, eyed up by eager store assistants and women trying on dresses. He'd even had to stick his head round several dressing room doors. One woman - who had to have been in her fifties - had told him he could stay to enjoy the show. He'd made his very charming excuses and then ran.

He was finally approaching what he hoped was the last dressing room.

And he breathed a sigh of relief - because he caught her voice snapping at one of the unfortunate assistants. That could only have been Blair.

" - Everyone in this store _incompetent_?"

He heard the changing room door slam.

He took his opportunity then, slipping past the red-faced assistant with a sympathetic look, to go up to the door and knock. "Uh, Blair?"

There was a pause. "Nate? Is that you?" The door was thrust open. "What are you doing in _Bendels_?"

"Looking for you," Nate muttered. He'd shut his eyes on instinct - one of the dressing rooms he'd tried, a particularly irate woman had stormed out in just her underwear - and he opened them now to find Blair's eyebrows arched. She was wearing a a yellow ruffle dress, sleeves slipping down her arms.

"Archibald?"

"Yeah. I just wanted to-"

"Does this fit me?" she demanded. She was no longer looking at him - her gaze was fixed on the full-length mirror instead, studying her reflection.

"I...guess?"

Why, Nate wondered? Why did she have to be shopping, out of everything?

She was glaring now as she tugged at the fabric. "I ordered it last month. And that idiot of a store assistant says that it's too big."

"Oh," Nate ventured. He glanced at her. "Maybe you lost weight? You know, you look kind of..."

She turned to look at him, very slowly. Her teeth were clenched in an overly sweet smile. "I'm sorry?"

So apparently never mentioning a girl's weight included weight loss. And apparently, he and Blair did not have the kind of friendship where it was acceptable to make those kind of comments. "Nothing."

"That's what I thought." She returned to her reflection. "The stupid material must have stretched. Or this store doesn't know how to fit things any more."

"Oh." Nate wished she'd stop fussing with the dress and listen to him. "Blair, I need to talk to you."

Her head whipped back round. "Is it Serena?"

"No," he assured her. "Serena's fine." Blair's eyes narrowed like she didn't believe him. He exhaled wearily. "It's Chuck."

And just like that, her expression closed off. "This dress is ridiculous." She moved back into the changing room and shut the door in his face.

"Blair," he tried again. "What happened?"

He heard the savage rip of a zip being dragged down. "Can you pass me the skirt hanging up over the mirror?" Her voice sounded very tight. He was pretty sure that maybe it wasn't supposed to sound that tight.

"Blair-"

"_Now_, Nate."

He sighed and picked the skirt up. But he needed answers. He needed to know what was going on, because his best friend looked like he was on the edge of losing it. And now that he thought about it - so did Blair.

He opened the door, but instead of just handing her the skirt he took a breath and went in.

"Nate!"

He had his hand clamped over his eyes. "Ok, I'm not looking."

"Get out!"

"No." He was firm. "Not until you tell me what's going on. Chuck said he's going to Australia, Blair. And he's bad. He's really bad - he looks like he hasn't slept all week."

"And?" Blair asked rigidly. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"Blair," he sighed -

"Cover you eyes, Nate!"

He quickly shoved his hand back in place. "Ok. But Chuck needs your help."

"Chuck doesn't need anything from me."

"He said he's going to _Australia,_" Nate protested.

"And?"

"Blair-"

"Eyes!"

This time, though, he dropped his hand because it was getting ridiculous. And he stared at her - she was white, and he wasn't usually good at noticing these things and it wasn't like he'd ever seen her in her underwear before, but he had seen her in swimwear and he was sure that she hadn't looked quite so fragile. Just like he'd never seen Chuck look quite so dishevelled. They both looked like messes, he realised. And Chuck and Blair were not supposed to be the messy ones.

"What happened?" he asked at last.

He wished he was Chuck and he wished he could tell what she was thinking, what the look on her face and in her eyes meant.

"Chuck's going to Australia. He wants to go." She sounded a bit like the robot he'd seen in that movie, he couldn't remember which one.

"Since when?"

"Since he doesn't want his life here." _Since he doesn't want me. _She snatched up her own dress because all of a sudden she didn't feel like trying on clothes any more.

"But," Nate's brow was clouded; he was sure something about that didn't sound right, "Of course he does. It's Chuck."

Exactly, Blair wanted to scream. It was Chuck. But she remembered that same furrow of bemusement on Nate's face when she'd told him Carter had left, so what the hell did he know?

"He wants to go to Australia."

She stepped into the dress and zipped it up and she made sure that she felt nothing because she was absolutely fine.

"I have to go. I'm meant to be having dinner with Cyrus."

And she was going to smile throughout the whole thing because she was _fine_.

* * *

The air of the St Regis bar was thick with cigar smoke, the clinking of glasses as they were refilled. If it hadn't been for the hundred dollar whiskey and the rich leather seats it could have been a bar from any one of Carter's travels.

He dropped his cards onto the mahogany table in one fluid movement. "Full house."

There was a stifled groan from one of the other players.

Carter smirked, leaning back in his chair.

Too easy.

He drew all of the chips towards him, and the other players all watched miserably. He picked up the cards and got ready to deal another hand. He was making a killing tonight.

"Mr. Baizen?"

He glanced up at the interruption. There was a member of staff hovering by the poker table, an anxious look on his face. Carter recognised the guy from reception. "Yes?"

"I have a message for you, sir."

Obviously, Carter thought in slight irritation, it was yet another message from his mother. "I'm busy."

The guy's eyes darted round the table and then back to Carter. "You might want to take this, sir? It's from the hospital."

* * *

It was with no small amount of relief that Blair followed her stepfather out of the restaurant once their dinner was finally over. Her face was starting to hurt from smiling and she had a feeling that she hadn't done all that good a job of convincing Cyrus anyway. He was too cheery and too enthusiastic and this time it was too much.

Not enough?

Blair had eaten more than enough delicious French food. She hadn't wanted French food in the first place. She didn't want anything to do with France ever again. France or Paris or Givenchy. She didn't want to hear about her mother's search for a new designer. She didn't want to hear the stream of Cyrus's never-ending questions about her fictional suitors - she loved him, but it was_ enough_.

There were some things Cyrus couldn't fix just by feeding her.

(Chuck hadn't wanted to fix it and he hadn't wanted her to help him or save him and that made no sense).

Blair was waiting by the entrance of Le Pavilion now while Cyrus called the car for them. And it was as her gaze flickered over the street and the St. Regis that lay opposite the restaurant that she saw him. No. No, no, no.

She'd had _enough_. Not again. He was everywhere and Chuck was nowhere. He was always there and she hadn't seen Chuck in a week. Chuck was leaving - and _he_ was back and apparently not going anywhere.

She strode across the road, and she was shaky with an anger that wasn't even aimed at him. (It was at Chuck. Always at Chuck). "Stop following me," she hissed. "When are you going to understand, Carter, that I don't want to see you and I don't want to talk to you-"

Then she saw his face. There was no cocky smile or lazy arrogance on it. Instead there was an expression that she'd never seen before. Not on him. An expression that she wasn't sure she understood.

"My mother's in the hospital."

Her gaze searched his face for a second. "What?" Victoria? Victoria was hurt?

His eyes were wild and she'd never seen them like this before. She'd never seen him out of control. She'd never seen Carter Baizen look _scared. _That was why she didn't understand it.

"They said she took an overdose." His face was grey. "She took an overdose, and I couldn't even be bothered to take her call." He didn't look cocky and he didn't look anything like the Carter Baizen she thought she'd known. "I need a car," he was muttering. "I need a car."

She saw Cyrus across the road.

Carter went to brush past her and she stopped him. "We'll...drive you."

He swallowed as he looked down at her, properly. His face was still grey and when it spoke it was almost inaudible. She didn't _recognise_ him. "Thank you."

* * *

**A/N - I'm kind of hoping the super speedy update means you won't hate me for loading on even more angst and not giving you a single CB scene this chapter? Yes? :) Also, I know it might sort of look like Blair is now helping Carter and not Chuck...but I don't think even Blair Waldorf is heartless enough to ignore someone when their mother - someone she knows - is in hospital? Thank you very very much for all your reviews! **


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N - Soo a quick word of warning: I was really happy to see that some of you don't mind or are even enjoying the Carter/Blair interaction - but for those of you who aren't...erm, this chapter is obviously going to be a wee bit Carter/Blair heavy. Apologies!**

* * *

Carter pushed past the orderlies and along the sterile corridor, Blair and Cyrus following.

"She's in here, Mr. Baizen." The doctor allowed him to go first - he hurried straight into the room and Blair came to a stop.

She sensed her stepfather behind her. "Well, aren't you going to go in?" Blair glanced at him. "Come," Cyrus coaxed. "That young man looks terrified. You can't leave him, Blair."

Carter never looked terrified - that was what had thrown her. But then she remembered that Victoria, the woman who'd almost been her mother in-law and let her try on the family engagement ring, who'd always complimented her on her dresses and manners and said she was adorable, was lying in a hospital bed.

So she sucked it up and went in.

* * *

There was a red-headed singer that kept trying to catch Chuck's eye. He could see her through his scotch - and in the end she came and slid into the booth next to him. Bold. "You look lonely," she crooned into his ear.

"Well," he muttered, "I'm not now." He downed his glass.

The singer shifted so that she was almost on his lap. "You wanna get out of here?" Her fingers traced his pant leg and he remembered Blair doing the same thing when she'd come to his suite after Lily's party, looking to forget about whatever it was that had happened with Carter.

He experienced a dark stab of bitter satisfaction at the thought of her knowing he'd fucked someone else. Of her even caring. This was who he was, after all. This was exactly who he'd been before he'd let her -

He'd been right. Of course he'd been right. She was a hundred times more delicious than any scotch and a hundred times more addictive than any illegal substance, but maybe if he combined all of them with sex and revenge then the burning inside him might disappear. She'd always managed to make it disappear by having sex with him.

He remembered his and Serena's engagement party. Remembered Blair's strained smile and pale face and her attempts to ignore him as everyone toasted the happy couple. He'd found her in the end, sitting alone in an empty side room staring at nothing.

"We're doing the right thing," she'd said. Her voice had been high as he'd regarded her. She'd been wearing a blue lace dress and in the semi-darkness of the room she'd suddenly looked very scared under her set expression. "Serena might never speak to me again, but we're doing the right thing. Even if it means she can't forgive me. Or I lose her."

Blair Waldorf had always refused to second guess herself when she decided on something. Even if the outcome was every bit as horrible as it could be, she relied on her instincts and she did it.

"We're doing what we have to," Chuck had told her. Blair Waldorf didn't always understand right and wrong but she understood necessity and need. She never did anything unless she knew that she had to.

"Yes."

He'd knelt in front of her, slowly. She'd gazed down at him and her dark eyes had glistened with tears that he'd known she didn't want him to see. Tears that she'd never admit had been there at all. "No one else knows how to protect Serena better than you." She'd swallowed and he'd felt the warmth of her breath on him as his hands hand framed her on that seat. "Now get it together, Waldorf."

She'd smiled and he'd stood up, his lips covering hers for a moment. He'd gone to break away but her hand had caught his. "Chuck." He'd seen the need on her face. So he'd kissed her again and her arms had folded around his neck, her fingers delved into the back of his hair and her body pressed up into his. (He supposed it was some point afterwards that Serena had caught them).

He'd known Blair had needed sex then to block out the knowledge that the next day she was probably going to lose her best friend.

So he needed sex now.

Only when the girl kissed him in the booth and raked her hands aggressively through his hair he didn't feel anything. The burning in his chest was unbearable and he didn't feel anything other than a sense of searing loneliness. This was it. This was who he was. He was Chuck Bass and he had sex with anyone. Everything was back to exactly how it was supposed to be - Carter was going to get Blair back, and Chuck was back to bodies and faces that blurred into one and it didn't even feel good any more because he felt nothing.

Not Blair's body or Blair's eyes or Blair's smile.

"Chuck! Thank god, man. We've been looking everywhere for you."

Chuck turned his head to see Nate and Eric standing in front of his booth. They were both staring, concern written all over them. Nate's gaze widened as he noticed the girl still trying to kiss his best friend.

"Hey, come on. Let's get you home." He attempted to pull Chuck up from his seat - the expression on the other boy's face stopped him. "Look," Nate sighed. "This is really messed up. I saw Blair earlier and I'm worried about her. I'm worried about you, and Serena was meant to be talking to you but I can't find her anywhere-"

"And now mom's worried," Eric cut in. "So just come home with us." His brown eyes were anxious. "I'm saying please, Chuck."

"I'm very at home here," Chuck slurred back. "Thanks."

"Come on. My mom's-"

"_Your _mom." Chuck's eyes were black with malevolence. "Your family, van der Woodsen. Not mine. Lily can preach all she wants, but you and your problems have nothing to do with me." He was cutting them off. Cutting them off. Chuck Bass did not have a family. He had a never-ending procession of girls and scotch, much like the ones in front of him now.

Eric refused to back down. "Whatever's going on with you and Blair-" Nate had attempted to fill him in earlier in the evening when he'd shown up at the penthouse looking for Serena. Serena who now hadn't been seen for hours.

Chuck allowed the girl to continue kissing his neck as he looked at Eric. "Blair?" he drawled. "You don't give a shit about _Blair_. You or your family. You cut her off, remember? You can't go back on that now just because your sister has a guilty conscience."

"Chuck," Eric attempted one last time.

"If you're so worried about Blair, then go save _her_. Go check up on _her_. And since you seem to enjoy it so much," he turned back to the girl and blocked them all out, "You can go get in _her_ way all the time." He lurched up and shoved the girl off him. "Go save Blair."

Nate and Eric exchanged helpless glances. "I'll go after him," Nate said. "And I'll see if I can find Serena. You should go home and distract Lily."

Eric nodded.

"Hell," the singer grumbled once she realised she'd been left alone at the booth. "What's wrong with you New York guys lately?"

* * *

"Blair?"

Victoria's eyes fluttered open, voice groggy as she attempted to sit up. She looked old and tired without her make up. Blair had been sitting on the egde of her chair next to the woman's bed - she leant forwards now.

"Mrs. Baizen. You're awake."

The woman was staring at her in confusion. She looked lost. "What's going on?"

"Carter's just speaking to the doctors," Blair said quietly. "He'll be back in a moment."

Victoria breathed out, closing her eyes. "I didn't want to worry him."

Blair swallowed. "He's...fine." She had no idea if he was fine or not. She'd never known Carter to not be fine. But she did know that it was what Victoria wanted to hear. "Do you need me to get anything for you?"

"No." She shook her head. And she gave Blair a watery smile, reaching for her hand. "Can you just sit with me, dear?" She squeezed the girl's fingers and mumbled, "I don't like hospitals."

Blair knew she'd spent long enough in hospitals over the past couple of years with Edward. "Ok." She didn't remove her hand.

Victoria released an exhausted sigh. "I didn't want to worry him. I really didn't." Her expression was almost pleading as she looked at Blair again. "I just didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to do, so I thought I'd take some valium because I haven't been sleeping, only..." She frowned, perplexed; "I must have taken too much."

Blair kept her face reassuring. "It's ok," she promised.

"It's not," Victoria admitted. "Oh, it's really not." There were tears gathering at her eyes now. "I didn't want to tell Carter because I didn't want to worry him, but we're in trouble." She sighed. "I think our home is going to be repossessed. I've already sold the Hamptons house, but even that's not enough."

Blair stared at her in shock. "Mrs. Baizen-"

"It was very hard on him," the woman sniffed. "My Edward. After Carter left, we didn't even know if he was alive. Your mother pulled out of that deal - I'm not blaming you, dear - and he lost a lot of credibility. He used to struggle, sometimes. Drinking. Gambling."

But the Edward Baizen that Blair had known was always sober. He'd never touched a drop. And he might have liked the races occasionally, but -

"He stopped after Carter was born. And then when he disappeared..." Victoria shook with a sob. "It was very hard on my husband. He's not to blame. I tried to hold him together, but after the doctors said he only had a year left I couldn't do any more." She was still gripping Blair's hand in hers. "I just didn't want to worry Carter." Gently, she brushed the brunette's hair from her face. "I'm so glad that he has you to look after him. He loves you, you know. He's always loved you. And I know that he's sorry he left you." She smiled sadly at her. "I'm glad you're here."

"You're awake."

Blair turned; Carter was standing in the doorway. He'd just caught the last part of their conversation, and something about the way Blair sat at his mother's bedside, something about the fact that Blair was here at all -

He took the other seat by Victoria and tried to push it away. "What happened?"

"Oh," Victoria exhaled. "You know, darling, I had a terrible headache. I must have picked up the wrong pills. You know what I'm like with all these long medical names...I probably should have been wearing my glasses."

Blair went very still as she watched mother and son. Victoria wasn't going to tell him. She wasn't going to tell him. Blair tried to catch her eye. "Mrs-"

"Please," Victoria smiled. "You always used to call me Victoria, Blair. There's no need to stand on ceremony." She patted her hand and let it go. "Would you mind fetching me some water?"

Blair stared - but she had no choice other than to stand up. "Of course," she managed evenly.

Carter gave her a look of silent gratitude. She felt sick as she headed out.

* * *

Nate needed Blair. He needed Blair to hold Chuck together and find Serena - because he was doing a crap job of it himself. He couldn't do it by himself. Blair had always known exactly what to do and exactly how to look after them. Chuck was spiralling and he had no idea where Serena was, and why did everything have to be such a mess?

Everything had started falling apart when Serena left. Nate didn't even want to know what would happen if Chuck left. Nate was never going to complain that he wanted to travel or get out of this place ever again. The only thing he wanted was his three best friends to come back to where they needed to be.

And in the meantime, he should probably start a bar crawl to find Serena.

* * *

Cyrus was a little perplexed to notice that Blair looked even whiter than before as she emerged from the hospital room. "Are you all right? I'm sure Mrs. Baizen will be just fine - I remember thinking she was a fighter." He peered at her when she said nothing. "Blair? I can take you home if you'd like?"

Blair collected herself. "No," she said at last. "It's ok. You should go home, Cyrus. I'm going to stay."

"Are you sure?" There was a furrow on her stepfather's face.

"Yes."

He smiled and gave her a little nudge. "You're very brave. Your mother would be proud."

"I'll see you later."

She wasn't brave at all.

* * *

Serena couldn't remember which bar she was in or how much she'd drunk. She was maybe in some kind of discotheque, and maybe she'd taken something because the dance floor was blurring as she danced. A thousand colored lightbulbs dimmed and flicked and popped into an infinity of light patterns, reflecting off shiny aluminum sheets. There was some kind of sexy Latin music playing while she danced and her golden hair splayed out and men ground against her.

She really was no better than Chuck. She'd managed a week without going off the rails again.

She'd slept with Carter.

She'd slept with Carter and cut Blair off and got Chuck shipped off to Australia.

Her and Blair weren't going to come back from this. She'd wanted to destroy Blair and she'd done it. She'd slept with the first guy Blair loved and got the other one disinherited and sent halfway across the world. And she wasn't even really sure how she'd done it.

They weren't going to come back from this.

_Why?_

Why hadn't Blair told her? Why had Blair let her think, and why had Serena believed -

She stumbled into one pair of arms and then she realised, through a haze, that she recognised them. And she wanted to cry because it wasn't the arms she wanted. But she tipped her head back instead and closed her eyes.

"Hey, Tripp."

* * *

Blair was standing at the counter of the hospital cafeteria waiting for sandwiches and coffee because Victoria had insisted that she and Carter eat. Even though Blair wasn't hungry in the slightest - and wouldn't touch hospital food even if she was.

"Hey."

She almost jumped. Carter was standing behind her. "Hi," she said tightly.

"She's asleep."

Carter leaned over her to pay for the food and then carried it over to the table before Blair could say otherwise. She followed him, rigid, and sat down with her hands in her lap.

She glanced at him.

But he wasn't looking at her; his jaw was clenched as he stirred his coffee. She took the opportunity to study him, and she still didn't really understand what she was seeing. She'd never seen him so unfocused. So tense. She realised that she didn't know what to say. What to do. She'd been able to hold Victoria's hand and tell her it was all ok because she'd known it was what the woman needed. If it had been Serena sitting before her Blair would have squeezed her hand even tighter and kept her busy and occupied. She would've hugged her. She would've done the same for Nate. Told him to pull himself together. And if it had been Chuck -

If it had been Chuck then he'd be trying to cut her out, growling and lashing out and pushing her away. And she'd have known what to do - she'd have known to sit at his side and refuse to move or leave him until he eventually gave in. Until she wore him down.

But when Carter finally glanced up, he looked almost as lost as his mother had. "This is my fault," he muttered. If Chuck had ever looked that lost then Blair would have wrapped her arms around him instantly and not let go. But this was Carter. And Carter was never wrong and never guilty - he never misjudged or misstepped and he always knew what to do.

She'd been his girlfriend for nearly five years. There must have been_ something_ she'd used to do to comfort him. Something she'd done to look after him. It was just that she'd never needed to look after him before. He'd never got blindingly out of control drunk and he'd never been insecure or confused or upset -

(And a voice somewhere at the back of her head pointed out that couldn't possibly be true because everyone had a weakness and if Carter had really been so happy then why had he left?)

It disconcerted her. She didn't know what to do. She felt like she was sitting with a stranger. These were never roles that they'd played before. She wanted to go back to ignoring him and acting like he didn't exist but she couldn't because his mother was in hospital and she wasn't telling him the real reason why. Because he looked guilty and lost and the Carter she thought she'd known had never looked like that.

"She's going to be fine," was all Blair could come up with.

She didn't know what to _say. _She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to make him feel better - she'd never even thought about knowing how to make him feel better before. She'd known how to be a good girlfriend. But she wasn't his girlfriend any more. A good girlfriend would have held his hand and made him eat. If she'd known what she was to him then she'd have known what she was supposed to do. What was she supposed to do?

She was Blair Waldorf and she did not panic in a crisis.

What did she do in a crisis?

If it was Chuck or Serena then she didn't waste time thinking about crisises or what she was supposed to do - if they were in pain then all she cared about was stopping it and she acted without thinking. She did whatever they needed.

She didn't know what Carter needed. How could she have been with him for so long and not know what he needed? She'd thought that he needed his father's company and Yale and the Upper East Side and she'd been wrong.

Carter looked at her, at her stiff posture and tightly clasped hands. Countless times before he would have unclasped those hands and said something inappropriate so that her shoulders relaxed. "You don't have to stay," he said. "You should go home. You look exhausted."

"Charming," she replied drily. Her shoulders had relaxed a fraction.

It made him want to smile, and that made it difficult for him to swallow suddenly - he blamed the stress. But he glanced over, voice low. "Thanks for doing this."

Those shoulders tensed again as her lips moved. "I did it for Victoria." She couldn't do this. She didn't know how to react and she didn't know what Carter needed. She went to stand up - he suddenly caught her arm.

"Blair." She didn't understand the look in his eyes. She didn't understand him. She'd been his girlfriend for five years and it couldn't be possible that she didn't understand him. He didn't let her go. "You're not," his mouth twisted, crooked, it what should have been a smile except his face was impossible to read, "You're not ever going to forgive me, are you?"

She stared down at him. He blamed himself for his mother, and if what Victoria had said was true then he didn't even realise the full extent of what he'd done yet. The guilt in his words was unmistakeable. She'd told herself for three years that he obviously wasn't capable of guilt and he didn't care about anything.

Telling him she didn't forgive him, right at this moment, was the cruelest thing she could do. She excelled in cruelty. He'd left her. Except, she realised, she couldn't summon the anger for it. She couldn't summon anything.

She took a breath. "I forgive you." It came out cold.

Carter's lip curled back at her. "Should I be grateful that you at least care enough to lie?"

Slowly, she sat down in front of him again. "You need to speak to your mother."

He gave her an odd look. "What?"

"She loves you."

"What are you talking about?" Carter frowned.

She couldn't do this. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know how he'd react and she didn't know what she was supposed to do. And that was all she could focus on - not making Carter feel better, but the fact that she had no idea how and she never had. "I don't understand, Carter." She just stared at him because the feeling that she'd fought for three years was finally threatening to overwhelm her. "I don't understand why you left."

_I don't understand you._

There was a beat of silence. Carter studied her, eyes moving over her face. "I just...I wanted to get out. I felt suffocated. I didn't want to end up like my father, tied to a desk for my whole life." He shook his head. "I wanted to get out."

"You felt suffocated," Blair repeated dully.

Carter's gaze narrowed in realisation. "Not by you. Never by you."

But her face had already shuttered. She swallowed, and when she finally spoke her tone was polite and removed. "You need to speak to your mother."

"Blair-"

"I _forgive_ you, Carter. It's not your fault you felt suffocated." Her dark eyes were blank. "I forgive you."

She didn't understand him. How could he have been suffocated by the life she'd been so sure they both wanted? How could she not have noticed for five years?_ You're the only one who always wants to stay. You're the only one who wants this life. _

If Chuck left then she would never forgive him. Never. She would never tell him she forgave him to make him feel better, and she would be as cruel as possible and she would make sure he knew that she didn't forgive him. Never. She didn't feel anger for Carter - didn't feel anything for Carter - because it was all directed at Chuck. If he left her then the anger would never disappear. It was seething and all-consuming and she would never forgive him.

"Mr. Baizen?" One of the nurses approached their table. "Your mother's asking for you.".

"I'm coming." Carter got up from his chair. The nurse had already disappeared, but he paused for a moment. His gaze rested on Blair and he looked like he was about to say something. He needed her to understand that she was the one part of his life that _hadn't_ been suffocating. But she wasn't looking at him and he didn't know how to make her see. He shook his head. "I'm glad you're here too," he murmured.

It wasn't till he'd gone that Blair's shoulders started to shake. She couldn't breathe and the tears were blinding her, alone in a hospital cafeteria that stank of disinfectant and hospital food, lit by ugly fluorescent lamps. Her fingernails dug into the formica table.

She didn't understand Carter. But she did understand Chuck and she knew that he'd never found the Upper East Side suffocating - nothing made sense any more. It wasn't an _if. _Chuck was leaving her. Chuck was leaving and she was never going to forgive him. Never.

* * *

**Ok, I promise promise that there is real Chair interaction coming up! And eek, I didn't mean to create such Serena hatred - in her defence, she had no idea what telling Bart would do and she wouldn't have told him if she did. Heh. Thank you so so much for all your wonderful feedback, I'm very sorry for the angst...but very glad that it's being enjoyed? :)**


	18. Chapter 18

Serena was enveloped in a thick haze when she finally woke up. There was a throbbing pain at the back of her head as she tried to sit up that she knew came from a wild night. A very wild night. Her hair was in disarray, stuck to her cheek, and she realised she was wearing a shirt over her underwear. A man's shirt.

The memories started to come back to her then. The club and the dancing and -

"Hey. How did you sleep?"

She turned, slowly. Tripp was smiling at her from the doorway. Tripp. She was going to be sick. She remembered dancing with him, remembered following him into a taxi to a hotel and the elevator and the bed now where the sheets were still tangled from what they'd done. From what she'd done.

Tripp was moving closer now, reaching for her. He went to kiss her.

She turned her head, face crumpling. "No." Oh, God.

His expression fell. "But-"

"No, Tripp." What had she done?

"But I thought, after last night..."

"It was a mistake," Serena mumbled. She pushed herself off the bed, looking for her clothes. It had been such a mistake. She found her dress thrown on the floor and picked it up. The room was still spinning a little around her.

"You say that every time," Tripp insisted. "But every time, we end up together. We're inevitable, Serena!"

"No," Serena was groaning. "No, we're not." She was just _stupid_. So stupid. What had she done?

Tripp tried to catch her before she could get to the door. "I love y-"

"Get off me, Tripp!" She whirled on him, the room tilting dangerously. There were tears blurring her eyes now. "Go _back_ to your wife."

She pulled herself free and fled with her dress under her arm. She didn't get very far - by the time she reached the elevator, she was forced to stop to throw up into the golden trash can. Her stomach and her head hurt. She wiped her mouth with Tripp's shirt sleeve, mascara all smudged. She was hot. She was too hot. She started unbuttoning the shirt and pulling it off her long body.

The elevator doors slid open and the startled bell boy gaped as he saw the half naked girl in the corridor.

"What are you looking at?" Serena slurred angrily, feeling the lump in her throat rise as she pulled her dress over her and glared at the gawking teenager.

"Nothing, ma'am." He hastily looked away.

She stumbled into the elevator, zipping her dress up. And she slumped against the wall as the compartment descended.

What had she done?

* * *

"This is really getting tired, Archibald."

Chuck was sprawled on his sofa when Nate entered his suite. "Look," the blond answered impatiently, "I'm serious now. I'm worried about Serena." He tried to appeal to his best friend. "I still have no idea where she is."

"If she doesn't want to see you," Chuck answered, flexing, "Then she doesn't want to see you."

"Lily doesn't know where she is, so I went to Cyrus to find out how Blair's doing - apparently she's in the hospital."

Something cold washed over Chuck. "What?" he sneered.

Nate didn't seem to notice. "Carter's mom took an _overdose."_ He shook his head because this was all too much for him to grasp._ "_What's wrong with everyone?"

Chuck didn't respond.

Nate sighed and took the seat opposite him. "You can't go to Australia." Then he remembered something -"Oh, I was supposed to pass on a message from Lily. Her and Bart were invited to a polo match this weekend, and she says if she has to see him then she wants to see you too."

"You can tell her I'm not a fan of horses."

Nate sighed again. "Tell her yourself, man." He stood up. "I need to find Serena."

Chuck's eyes narrowed as he left. Bart and Lily at a polo match together was not a good idea. His father was obviously going to use it to try and get her back - and his own immediate urge was to call Blair. Blair was with Carter. He drowned the urge, viciously, with the final mouthful of his drink.

* * *

Blair was seated at the breakfast table, picking at berries while Cyrus tried to encourage her to eat _bagels. _"You know what we should do this weekend?" her stepfather asked cheerfully. "Go and see Cabaret on Broadway!"

"Cyrus." Blair gave him a look over her glass of water. "Waldorfs do not go to _musicals_." Not unless they were five.

He chuckled. "But the opening night had such good reviews!" He loaded more food onto her plate. "And what's not to love about a musical?"

She rolled her eyes. But the sad truth was that she had nothing to do this weekend. Nothing at all. She'd told Cyrus that she was very busy and that her entire closet needed reorganising. Pathetic. She'd also told him that she was going shopping again, this time with her minions. She didn't feel like doing either of those things but she needed to keep busy. She was busy. Busy doing nothing and feeling nothing.

At least last week she'd had a purpose in visiting Victoria at the hospital. Flowers to organise for the woman's room, food to bring. But Victoria had finally gone home yesterday and now there was nothing more to do.

It was a Saturday morning and Blair Waldorf had no real friends and no Givenchy line and no -

(No Chuck).

She was going to reorganise her entire room, she decided. Top to bottom.

They were interrupted from their breakfast by the sound of the elevator. "Miss Blair!" Dorota called. "Mr Carter is here to see you."

Cyrus smiled at her.

Blair got up and hurried into the next room; Carter stood languidly by the elevator, wearing a light shirt with his hair ruffled. He turned to her with a smirk.

"What is it?" she demanded. "Is your mother ok?"

"She's fine."

Blair released a huff of impatience. "Then what are you doing here?"

His mouth curved. "Taking you to a polo match."

She stared at him for a moment - he was back to the Carter Baizen she knew, down to the arrogant tilt of his head and the grin that played at his lips. "I'm not going to a polo match. I'm busy."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "My mother's in the car downstairs, she insisted. Are you going to ignore the request of a sick woman?"

"She's not sick," Blair pointed out.

That just made him smirk again. (Though the fact that he was back to himself meant that he must be feeling relief). "You should get dressed."

"I don't even have an outfit-"

He snorted. "Please." His look was indolent and knowing, because Blair Waldorf had an outfit for everything. He pressed the button for the elevator. "I'll see you downstairs."

He was gone before she could refuse.

* * *

"Serena."

Lily put down the hat she'd been trying on for the event as her daughter came through the door.

"Where have you been?"

Then she realised that the blonde was wearing the same clothes she'd last seen her in, her hair a mess and her blue eyes unfocused. And she smelt of bars and alcohol and cigarette smoke.

"_Serena,_" she exhaled. "Not again."

Yes, Serena thought miserably. Again. She'd done it again. Fucked it all up again because that was the only thing Serena van der Woodsen knew how to do. She brushed past her mother. "I'm tired, I need to go to bed."

But Lily stood in her way. "No. I'm not leaving you here by yourself. You can go and get washed and come with me and Eric to the Polo Club."

Serena shut her eyes. "Mom-"

"We're all tired of this," Lily said firmly. She shook her head in exasperation. "Have a shower."

* * *

The sun was high in the clear blue sky, dazzling the rich green stripes of the verdant field, gleaming off the polished flanks of horses and the crisp white of polo uniforms. Guests in suits and bright summer dresses milled about a large marquee, clutching large hats and glasses of chilled cocktails.

"Mr Baizen, Miss Waldorf. Could we get a photograph?"

The reporter was already angling his camera at the good-looking couple that had just arrived. Blair glanced at Carter. He pulled a wry face and she smiled, tightly. "I don't-"

"Oh, go on." Victoria ushered them together. "Please? You two always did make such a handsome pair."

Blair was exquisitely dressed in a sleeveless fuchsia dress with a matching wide brimmed hat, white silk hatband falling down past her shoulders. She'd paired the outfit with white gloves and pearls at her ears, dark hair pinned under the hat. And yes, Carter looked good. Carter always looked good. His arm slid around her waist as the camera clicked; expensive cologne and her bare arm pressed against him, his smirk just above her. For a moment it felt like three years ago. They'd posed for countless pictures before. He'd used to murmur in her ear and let his fingers graze the small of her back because Carter Baizen could never behave.

She released a breath and pulled away as soon as the photographer had finished. It felt familiar. Too familiar.

"So are you two back together?"

Carter answered the man before she was able to. "Unfortunately not." His eyes gleamed at her in the sunlight.

Her lips tightened. "I'm going to get a drink." She stalked off.

* * *

"Serena." Her mother guided her with her arm. "Come and introduce yourself to Prince Charles."

Serena was not in a fit state to introduce herself to anyone - let alone royalty. She'd already met the entire polo team thanks to Lily, and the sun was unbearable for her headache. She smiled wanly at the young prince. "Hi." She'd been ushered by her mother into a long sleeved cream dress, golden hair newly washed and brushed. But she felt unsteady and exhausted in her deep orange heels and her matching earrings were too heavy for her ears. She didn't want to be here.

She tried to look at Lily to let her know that she'd had enough and she wanted to go, but the woman was already engaged in conversation with another guest.

Serena excused herself.

"Are you going to tell me what happened now?" Her little brother had come to join her in the shade of the marquee.

"Don't start, Eric."

But Serena had just noticed Blair come into the marquee and she'd gone still. Blair. Was here. The brunette looked too perfect and too pale as she ordered the bartender to fetch her a kir royale.

Serena swallowed.

Blair turned her head as though sensing someone watching her - and their eyes met. Blair's expression was cold as she shifted round and cut Serena out.

Serena approached her anyway. "Hey," she started quietly.

"Go away." Blair didn't turn her head again.

"Blair-"

"We're not friends. You don't want anything to do with me. I get the message, Serena." Her voice was measured and icy while she picked the strawberry out of her drink. "And the feeling's mutual." She looked at the blonde and then away, profile erect under the sweep of her hat. "I don't want anything to do with you either."

Serena was left standing uselessly at the bar.

She felt Eric come up behind her again as she watched her best friend disappear - and it was as she watched that she saw someone even worse. "Why's Nate here?" she asked, faintly. Nate couldn't be here. Nate couldn't see her.

Eric sighed. "I invited him. I thought-"

Serena spun away, shaking her head. "Why would you do that?" She had to get out and she had to get out now - before Nate could see her. She pushed past her little brother and out of the marquee, ignoring his concern. She headed for the trees instead, as far away from the polo match as she possibly could.

* * *

Carter found Blair gripping a drink that she hadn't touched, eyes fixed on the horses as the divots were hammered into place and the players warmed up for the first chukkah.

He joined her by the white fence and nudged her, lightly. "I didn't realise you'd become such an animal lover."

Her lips pursed. "The prince of England is playing."

"My mother's asking for you."

For a moment, she said nothing. "Are you using Victoria in some twisted attempt to get to me?" she demanded finally.

He looked at her sideways and his mouth twitched. "What if I was?" he drawled.

"I'm not in the mood, Carter. Find someone else to play with if you're that bored."

He rolled his eyes. "Look, she wanted you here. She wanted to say thank you for everything you've done this week." He glanced at the dark-haired beauty. "And so did I."

Blair continued to track the players on the field. "I'm here for her."

He suddenly felt her stiffen next to him, and she turned as though she'd been stung. He turned too, following her gaze.

"It's so good to see you, Mr. Bass."

But it was Bass senior rather than junior - Bart was shaking the hand of one of the sponsors, deep in conversation. Carter sensed something in Blair change as she realised the same thing. Whatever Chuck had done, she was obviously still pissed at him. Carter found the thought pretty funny. He tried to bring her attention back to him, redirecting it to the field. "So the lanky one who looks like he has no idea what he's doing is your prince?"

She was still watching Bart, though. He heard her breathing catch.

Chuck Bass had arrived.

He seemed to be looking for his father too, but his eyes landed immediately on Blair instead. Carter glanced between the two of them. Blair's face was white with anger all of a sudden - he knew the signs - eyes slanted and mouth compressed. She looked mad as hell. And Chuck looked equally furious. The guy broke their connection first, ripping his gaze away.

"What was that about?" Carter snorted.

"Nothing."

Carter regarded her. "What did Bass _do_ to you?" She was clutching the glass in her hand so tight that he thought it might shatter - he tugged it out of her grasp, eyebrow arched in amusement. "Blair."

But she didn't seem to hear him through the anger that radiated from her. Her eyes remained on Chuck's retreating figure as she slipped away from Carter. "_Excuse me_."

* * *

He hadn't been sleeping.

His appearance was flawless, thick dark hair smoothed back and crisp frame dressed in a pinstriped lilac suit and purple tie, flawless down to his violet pocket square. But his dark eyes were shadowed - he hadn't been sleeping.

"Bass."

His lip curled. He didn't look at her.

"Waldorf."

Fury coursed through her veins - he wasn't even looking at her now? _He_ wasn't looking at _her_? "Shouldn't you be hugging koalas and hunting in the outback?" Venom flooded her voice.

She knew from Nate that he wasn't due to leave until the end of the week. She shoved that thought away. (She hadn't seen him in two weeks and at the end of the week she wasn't going to - she wouldn't be able to -)

"Shouldn't you be with your boyfriend?"

It was dull sneer that she ignored. "I'm surprised that you came at all," she shot back savagely. "They might have horses in Australia, but I doubt they have events like these." She could guess the real reason he'd come, if both Bart and Lily were here - though Lily did at least seem to be ignoring Bart.

"You know," he returned, hollow, "I don't think Mother Theresa spent much time at events like these."

Her eyes flashed as she realised what he meant. Victoria. (And she wondered how he knew, if he-) "Not that it's _any_ of your business, but-"

"Chuck."

They were both interrupted by a coolly familiar voice. Bart had finished his conversation with the sponsor. He now stood before them, oozing condescension as he watched his son.

His hard blue eyes flickered to the girl at Chuck's side.

"Blair. What a surprise."

Chuck bristled because he knew it had been aimed at him. He didn't even realise that he'd moved between Blair and his father, blocking her from the man.

"I wasn't aware you'd been invited to this," Bart commented. He'd taken steps to have the boy blacklisted from a number of events; as far as he was concerned, he wasn't a Bass any more.

"I have connections," came Chuck's flat reply.

"Will I have to stop someone's husband from disrupting the match?" his father enquired. He glanced to Blair. Smiled. "I see. How sweet." Blair glowered at him, but he didn't seem affected. "Will you be joining my son in Sydney?"

"Why don't you go back to your date," Chuck bit at Blair before she could say anything. His gaze didn't move from his father. And Blair wanted to grab his arm, drag him away from the man, force him to look at her. She wanted to tell Bart to leave him alone. Tell him Chuck wasn't going to Sydney and they were going to destroy him. She wanted to scream at Chuck to tell him the same thing. _Why_ wasn't he saying the same thing? "Go," he said to her between gritted teeth.

"Don't worry," Bart stopped Blair. "I'll go." He nodded at his son with a mocking curve to his lip. "Leave you two to it."

There was silence between them both as they stood there, and Blair's eyes burned into Chuck's impossibly rigid posture. "Chuck-"

"Just go back to Baizen."

He still wasn't _looking_ at her - and helpless rage seared, black and immobilising. She wanted to kill Bart. She wanted to kill _him_. Why hadn't he fought? Why wasn't he fighting? She swallowed. "You're a coward," she said softly. She refused to let the control in her voice waver even though she wanted scream at him.

Chuck's gaze travelled the lawn to where Carter still stood by the fence, watching them both. Watching Blair. He raised Blair's drink in Chuck's direction with a derisive tilt of his head.

"Well." Chuck still didn't look at her and it came out a cruel, deliberate murmur. "It takes one to know one."

He heard her sharp intake of air. And he felt her warmth leave him as she walked away. It was only then that he turned his head, once she was gone.

(It hurt everywhere).

* * *

There was a shady paddock that lay tucked away from the rest of the guests and the action, hidden by sweeping trees. Serena leaned against the wooden railings with her head in her hands.

Her headache was better out of the sun, but she still felt ill as she sat by herself. She kept picturing Nate's face and his cream shirt that she knew would smell clean and warm, his profile just as he'd been about to turn to her - before she'd run away. Because she'd slept with his cousin. Again. Her night with Tripp, sticky and dirty as she'd tossed her hair back and kissed him even though he was all wrong.

She'd fallen for Tripp because he always smiled at her and he had Nate's blue eyes. Because he was grown-up and had seemed stable and responsible, the young politician that everyone loved and knew what he believed in. He'd wanted to leave his wife for her and she'd been sure that was love, sure that he looked at her and saw her. Not just a hot blonde that everyone wanted, but her. He'd listened to her ideas and listened to her talk, smiling like what she was saying was important. People never listened to her ideas like they listened to Blair or Chuck's. She never knew what she wanted like Blair or Chuck did - and her affair with Tripp had made her feel like she was going after something and into something. Like for once she had a purpose.

But last night hadn't felt like that at all. Last night had felt dirty and sticky and wrong and tired. And then she thought about Nate and she _couldn't_.

A branch snapped, disturbing her from her miserable thoughts. She looked up to see Blair picking her way through the clearing. She was out of place among the trees in her heels and hat and prim tight dress. She came to a stop when she saw Serena.

"Oh."

She obviously hadn't expected her - or anyone - to be there.

Serena gazed down, running a hand along her dress. "Uh, I can...go," she exhaled. She went to stand up.

"No," Blair said tautly. "It's fine. I was just...I'm going." She'd only wanted to escape the match because she couldn't take it any more. Any of it. She couldn't take Victoria's hopeful smile and Carter acting like he was that person again, the one who'd carried her away and promised her a future and smiled cockily with her in photos. But most of all she couldn't take seeing Chuck, so perfect and sleepless and ignoring her. She couldn't take it because she wanted to slap him and shake him and he wouldn't even _look_ at her. (She couldn't take it because the idea that he wouldn't be there in a week to shake or slap was unimaginable and unbearable). She wasn't the coward. She wasn't. _He_ was.

There was a tense silence, now, while Serena glanced at her. Blair went to move away. "Are you ok?" It blurted out of Serena.

"What do you care?" Blair's intonation cut. She was angry and she wanted to be angry at someone. She wanted to be angry at Serena because it _hurt_.

"Blair," Serena attempted in vain. "I..." she shook her head. "I care."

"Why?" the brunette hissed. "I betrayed you, remember? You don't want anything more to do with me. You can't believe me."

Serena stared at her through tears that had started to gather at her lashes. "Blair," she whispered. "I-"

"Why are you even here?" Blair demanded. "Nate's looking for you." She took in the blonde's appearance, the look of misery on her face and the hangover that only someone who knew Serena well would notice, because all anyone else would notice was her miles of legs and glowing skin and brilliant hair. And she hated her best friend. She really did. She hated her and she loved her and it hurt.

"I slept with Tripp." Serena gulped.

There was a pause while Blair just looked at her. "Nate will forgive you. He always does."

"No," Serena's hands shook and a sob escaped her. "This time he won't."

"Of course he will."

But the blonde was wracked with sobs now and alarm fluttered in Blair's chest because she hadn't seen Serena this bad in a long time. Slowly, gingerly, she lowered herself onto the railings next to her. "What's wrong?" she murmured. She gazed at her quietly. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Serena buried her face in her hands. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

It hurt seeing Serena in pain. It hurt and Blair moved closer, instinctive, hand sliding to the other girl's to pull them away from her face. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"I know," Serena managed in a whisper. She turned her tearstained face to her best friend. "Chuck told me why you did it. I know you didn't...he said you did it to protect me. And my mom and Eric."

Blair came to an absolute stop. "What?" Chuck had told her? Chuck had _told_ her?

"I don't," Serena struggled, "I - why didn't you come to me? Why didn't you explain? Why did you let me think-"

Seconds dragged out in a harsh silence. Blair sucked in a breath. "That betrayal is in my nature? That I didn't want you to have Chuck?" It dripped bitterness as the breath was released in an almost scoff. Her eyes were dry. "Because those things are true too." She looked at her best friend. "If I'd told you, then it wouldn't have worked. Bart had to think that it was all you. But," her teeth sank dangerously into her lower lip, "You were right. The thought of you taking Chuck, of your engagement, of the two of you together - it made me feel physically sick. The thought of _you_ having him. It made me feel sick."

Serena looked confused. "But you know Chuck and I were never-"

"You think that would have mattered, if you were married?" Blair's voice rose. "I couldn't even stand the thought of you going on dates together! I was jealous," she went on. "And the truth is that I was relieved when I found out about Bart. I was relieved when I found out that we had a reason to break you up." Her dark eyes travelled over the blonde. "You were right. Everything you thought about me and everything you assumed was right."

Serena didn't say anything for a moment. "So it's true that Bart just wanted revenge?"

Wasn't Serena listening? "Yes," Blair answered, "But-"

"He would've destroyed my family if I'd married Chuck."

"Yes." Blair nodded.

"So you saved me," Serena murmured. "You saved me, B." She stared at the other girl with glistening eyes. Something stirred underneath, sticky and guilty - because she knew exactly how jealous Blair could be. The jealousy and the fight that they'd always had all the time - Blair's obsession with the idea that Serena took everything from her, without even trying - was exactly why Serena had slept with Carter. Because Blair had ensured that she'd never get Chuck, so she'd decided to take the thing that she could even though she'd never wanted neither of them. She'd slept with Carter because she knew just how insecure Blair had always been that Carter had picked her over Serena all those years ago. She'd slept with Carter because she could. And now she felt like the worst person in the world. "Blair," she began.

"I don't want to lose you." Blair stopped her rigidly. There was insecurity in her gaze now, but of a different kind - insecurity and an all-consuming fear hidden in the darkness. "I lost you." (She was going to lose Chuck).

Guilt raged through Serena, but the fear that she saw on Blair's face made her pull the brunette's hands into hers. "You didn't lose me," she said, perplexed. She wrapped her arms around the smaller girl's cold frame when she felt her shake. "You won't lose me," she promised against her as she hugged her.

Blair's eyes closed again as her head rested on Serena's shoulder and she clung to her, tight.

* * *

Bart appeared to have given up on getting Lily to speak to him - that, or he had more pressing matters to attend to back in the city. Chuck sat alone at a table in the marquee with a vodka gimlet in front of him. Afternoon shadows sloped against the grass outside and the final chukkah had been played, the horses and players now surrounded by spectators clamouring to engage in conversation with the stars.

"Charles." He glanced up; Lily had taken the seat across the white tablecloth from him. She had her own glass of white wine that she regarded him with. "You didn't come to dinner."

"I must have forgotten."

She shifted in her seat. "Nathaniel seems to think that you're going to Australia. I told him you couldn't possibly be." She said it pointedly.

Chuck didn't look up from his drink. "I'm going to stay with my uncle."

"Charles," Lily sighed. "Let me talk to Bart-"

"This is my decision. Not his."

Lily gave him a look of gentle skepticism. "You want to leave New York? All your friends - Nate? Blair?"

He shut his eyes as he remembered Blair glaring at his father, glaring at him, her perfect make up and pink glossy lips that didn't hide - not from him, not for a second - the fact that she'd obviously got next to no sleep for the past several days.

"I want to go," he stated brusquely. He pushed aside his glass and stood up because he couldn't bear to be at this stupid game a moment longer. "I'm sorry, Lily."

He saw them as he was getting into his car. Blair and Serena, coming out of the cluster of trees together. Serena had her arm around Blair's slight shoulders - and Chuck watched impassively but was glad. He was still watching, hand on the car door, as Blair's head lifted a fraction. Their eyes locked. Brown on brown. And hers seared all over with an expression that sliced into him.

He broke the connection first. Got into the car and slammed the door shut.

She watched the sleek vehicle, the back of his head, disappear until there was only dust left.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you very much for all of your fantastic reviews! **


	19. Chapter 19

"You know Blair, you could always come with me. I'm sure your mother would love to see you!"

Blair managed a smile. She had no desire to go to Paris. Not now, not any more. Apparently Eleanor was still in negotiations, which was why Cyrus was flying out to her. "I have too much to do here," Blair lied. "You know how busy July is."

(He'd be gone by July. By July he wouldn't even be in the city for her to hate. But she wasn't going to stop hating him, not for a second).

"Well," her stepfather said regretfully, "I suppose." He went to pick up the large suitcase for the doorman to take to the car downstairs.

"Blair?" Serena poked her head into the room, followed by the anxious looking maid who'd let her in. As far as Dorota knew, her mistress and the blonde weren't on speaking terms - and she wasn't looking forward to the inevitable fall-out. Serena smiled at Blair, though, tentatively. She was holding a large box from the patisserie under one arm, all sunshine in a floaty dress. She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I was just...uh, they're showing Breakfast at Tiffany's. It's on in ten minutes." She offered the box. "I brought croissants?"

Dorota knew for a fact that it had been a long time since Blair had allowed herself to even touch the buttery treats. But, much to her surprise, the girl accepted the box. "That sounds good."

Serena's smile widened.

* * *

Chuck emptied the last dregs of a bottle of bourbon into his black coffee, Nate now seated at his minibar because he'd spent so long knocking at the door that Chuck had eventually been forced to let him in.

"Did you hear Carter Baizen's having a party?"

Chuck's hand clenched around his cup at the mention of the guy's name and he fixed his best friend with a look of flat incredulity. "And?" he snarled. "Don't tell me you're going, Archibald."

Nate frowned. "Hey, he always knew how to throw a party." They'd used to go to them all the time. Chuck had used to be the one who helped arrange them - he and Carter had always been experts in debauchery.

Chuck's lip twisted upwards. "He did." There was a sneer that Nate recognised as Chuck swallowed a mouthful of the coffee, savouring its rich bitterness. "Is Serena going to this party?"

The blond's expression clouded just like Chuck had known it would. "I have no idea." His shoulders slumped. "She's still avoiding me."

Chuck merely scoffed. "If it's a party, I'm sure she'll be there."

"Yeah," Nate muttered.

Chuck glanced at him and his unhappiness. "Archibald," he sighed. "She can't avoid you forever. Talk to her."

"We were talking. I mean, everything was going great." Nate didn't understand it. "And now she won't even see me."

"Serena can never stay away from you for very long," Chuck pointed out in a drawl. "Go to the party. Hunt her down."

"Hunt her down?" Nate laughed. He was grinning now, despite himself. "I think that's more your thing than mine." Chuck rolled his eyes and Nate looked in his direction again. "Do you think Blair's going?" he asked casually. Very casually. He was half-expecting his best friend to bite his head off, as he did any time Nate attempted to bring Blair up. But he was also hoping if he mentioned the brunette enough times then he might convince Chuck to stay. He still didn't fully believe that he was actually going to Australia - and if he was, Nate was sure, he'd be back within the week. No way could he leave forever. It was just unthinkable; Chuck always came back.

"I'm sure she will," Chuck stated flatly. "If it's her boyfriend's party." His face was blank, but there was something about his dark eyes that Nate couldn't fail to notice. He knew Chuck well enough to know there was _something_ under that impassive look, even if he wasn't sure exactly what.

But he blinked at the mention of boyfriend_. _"Carter and Blair got back together?" When had that even happened? Nate hadn't thought Blair would ever forgive the guy for leaving.

"How would I know?" Chuck growled. He downed his drink. "I don't keep tabs on Waldorf's love life."

Nate frowned; he had the vague notion that was questionable, since he was pretty sure Chuck was part of that love life. "I thought she was just helping Carter's mom."

"And part of her saintly duties included being his date to a polo game," Chuck responded, acerbic.

That seemed to confuse his best friend. "I didn't see them together."

"Maybe you were too busy looking for Serena, Nathaniel."

No - Nate was sure that he was right. "Carter was alone with Victoria," he insisted. "That's whenI spoke to him about his party." Chuck made no comment. Nate switched tactics, trying to cheer him up. "You know, I never thought they worked together."

Coffee and bourbon churned bitter. "Those five years were clearly agonising for both of them."

Nate shrugged. "She was happy with you." He turned to Chuck to find himself faced with one pair of dark eyes, slanted fatally. Nate's own gaze widened in defence. "I'm just saying, man."

(Blair's smile and Blair's laugh as she'd curled her hands around his face to kiss him, when Chuck had been so deliriously happy he hadn't been able to focus on anything else).

"Blair was never _with_ me."

"Well, she didn't seem so agonized the past two years," the blond muttered. Before this week, Chuck had never hissed or spat at him. He was starting to see why other people might find his best friend so intimidating - and he'd come to the conclusion that it wasn't a discovery he'd particularly wanted to make. Just because he knew what Chuck was like didn't mean that he enjoyed being on the receiving end.

But Chuck wasn't going to be here by next week to hiss or spit at him. He needed to cut Nate off too. He _should_ be cutting him off. He'd tried to cut him off in kindergarten because he was such a good little daddy's boy and Chuck wasn't. Nate had wanted to be his friend anyway. Nate had wanted to be his friend for sixteen years, without question and without judgement or rivalry or jealousy. Because Nate was Nate. Baizen drank as much as Chuck, was as calculating and sharp and even cruel as Chuck - Nate wasn't and never had been. They'd all been awed by Baizen; they'd always wanted to party with Baizen. But Baizen wasn't Nate.

Chuck set his cup down, pursed his lips. "We should draw up a plan of attack. You can corner Serena at the party."

* * *

"I always wanted a kiss in the rain," Serena sighed.

She and Blair were sprawled on their stomachs on Blair's bed, eyes glued to the television in its oak cabinet. Blair was still in her pyjamas, luxuriating in navy silk, while Serena had kicked her shoes off to lie with her.

"It would ruin your hair," Blair pronounced coolly. She'd kissed Chuck in the rain. It had ruined her hair. They'd snuck up to a rooftop and got caught in a sudden downpour - but her lips had been on his and her arms tangled around him, and at first she hadn't even noticed the drops that had started to fall. The drops that had slid down her dress and clung to her eyelashes as she'd pressed tighter into the heat of his body. "It wouldn't be romantic at all." She was savage, tearing a shred of croissant.

Serena nudged her so that their shoulders bumped. "Don't pretend you can't quote this entire scene."

_"You're chicken. You've got no guts."_

_He_ was the chicken. _He_ had no guts. Not her not her not –

"Have you spoken to Nate yet?" she demanded.

Serena squirmed a little, kisses in the rain forgotten. "…No?"

"S."

"I will," Serena attempted. "I…will." The credits started to roll on the screen and she flopped onto her back. Blair eased down next to her best friend as the ending instrumental music played, the two of them gazing at the ceiling, hair tangling.

"Serena."

She sensed the other girl breathe out. "As soon as I tell him…it's over. I could lose him for good."

Lose him for good. Blair couldn't stand it. Her eyes moved over the ceiling again, jaw set.

"Then that's his loss."

(She couldn't).

* * *

Carter was in a good mood. His mother had gone out to lunch at the Colony Club, followed by an afternoon at the Club's spa - a clear sign that she was feeling much more like herself. Carter knew nothing made her happier than gossip and beauty treatment with the Club ladies. He'd moved back into the penthouse just to keep an eye on her, and she seemed much better than she had after his father's memorial service. Or more involved, anyway.

He was met at the Waldorf penthouse now by Dorota with one pair of folded arms. "Miss Blair is busy." But he'd always been able to sweet talk Blair's maid before, and he knew he'd win her round eventually.

He could hear the television upstairs; he arched an eyebrow. "Breakfast at Tiffany's?" He'd taken her to see it for her fifteenth birthday. She'd already been obsessed with Hepburn and she'd sat on the edge of the seat in the movie theatre, eyes shining and hand clasped in his. He'd rolled his own eyes like he always did, but there had been something perfect about her flushed cheeks and the way she'd let him kiss her outside the theatre doors in the cool night air. He smirked and brushed past the maid. "I won't take up too much of her time."

But the smirk slid off his face when he reached Blair's room and found her not alone on her bed as he'd expected, but curled up with Serena. He stared at the blonde with a grimace. Since when were she and Blair back to being best friends?

Blair glanced up in surprise. "Is Victoria ok?"

Serena couldn't have told her. Of course she hadn't - they wouldn't be snuggled up watching Tiffany's if Blair knew she'd slept with him. Carter forced another smirk, but just because Serena wouldn't risk telling her didn't mean he felt any better about seeing them together. The reminder of what he'd done. "She's at the Colony Club."

Something odd glimmered on Blair's face. "That's great." She was watching him, he was sure of it. "Did you...talk to her?"

"She's avoiding pills for a while," Carter answered drily. "But I actually came to invite you to a party." He gazed down at the brunette, mouth curved. "Saints and Sinners masquerade." Blair had always adored dressing up. "I'm throwing it at the Oyster Bay house."

Carter's great aunt had been a spinster who'd hoarded all her money in a crumbling mansion in Nassau County, and Victoria had never stopped complaining about it. After she'd died it had been left to the Baizens - Blair was amazed Victoria hadn't sold it yet. Especially considering what she'd told her at the hospital. "I thought the place was a wreck."

Carter shrugged. "Apparently my mother had the entire thing renovated."

"When?"

Blair was very aware of Serena watching, questioning, but she ignored it. If Victoria had money for renovating the house, then maybe she'd been exaggerating their financial situation? Maybe everything was fine and Blair didn't have to deal with the uneasy sensation whenever she spoke to Carter, didn't have to worry about having no idea what to do.

"I don't know." Carter glanced at her. "But if you're that interested in interior design, Waldorf, you should come see for yourself. Friday night."

Serena shifted on the bed. "Didn't we make plans Friday night, B?"

Subtlety had never been her strong point, Carter reflected as she tried to send all kinds of pointed looks in Blair's direction. But Blair was pausing now too - and she was a much better liar than the other girl. He made a calculation. "Archibald will be there," he said idly.

Sure enough, Blair's expression turned decisive. He remembered her trying to matchmake Nate and Serena as far back as junior high, and if they were back to being friends now then that couldn't have changed. (When he'd heard about Serena's engagement, he'd been positive that he must have misheard Nate's name for Chuck's). Nate had been depressed at the polo game and clearly looking for her - it wasn't rocket science.

"We'll think about it," Blair told him, thin.

He knew that was a yes. She'd be dragging Serena now no matter what. "I'll see you there."

Serena glared at him as he sauntered out, but he ignored her. The only problem with that glare was that Serena might decide to tell Blair for her own good. To warn her away from him. And if Serena got in her own version of events -

He didn't want Blair to know because it would hurt her. She couldn't know. He'd fucked Serena precisely because it was bad, and because they'd both been feeling low at the time. And sure. She was every man's fantasy. She was hot and he knew it. He remembered that first day he'd seen them both after boarding school. A tiny dark-haired girl in polished Mary Janes and whiter than white socks, prim red bow and perfect brown curls. Serena had been grinning and golden and flirtatious, with eyes that sparkled with mischief and adventure - all the things he'd enjoyed himself. But Blair's stiff, prickly replies and dark eyes narrowed in distaste had amused him. His parents had gone to great lengths to explain to him what a good girl Blair Waldorf was, but it wasn't her flawless manners and pristine dresses that had drawn him to her. It had been the way her eyes burned when she glared at him, her sharp tongue and her hilariously upright posture that he just wanted to unwind. All her neuroses and obsessions.

(It had never been her _manners_ that had made him feel like a better person - it had been her smiles. Adoration and unwavering belief like only Blair Waldorf had).

Serena liked to party and cut loose and so did Carter. Only a blind guy wouldn't be attracted to her, and in that moment in Santorini they'd been on each other's level - they'd understood each other. Maybe a part of him had always understood Serena. He'd slept with her because they'd both run away from New York and fucked everything up and turned their backs on Blair. Nothing mattered, and they'd both lost her. He'd slept with Serena because she was a step closer to Blair and a step further away too, and he'd sensed enough of Serena's angry misery to know that she'd done it for the same reason.

He'd slept with Blair's best friend - and even if she did eventually forgive him for leaving, she'd never forgive him for that. If Serena got drunk and guilty enough at his party then she might feel the need to tell her. And Carter couldn't let that happen.

He needed to distract her.

He hailed a cab and gave the driver instructions to a certain townhouse.

Because a certain van der Bilt was about to receive an invitation to his party.

* * *

Night darkened over the summer sky as a sleek black car raced through wooded hills, the glittering line of the coast on one side framed in sand. Silver moonlight flashed through the beech and sycamore branches.

"Are you sure about this?" Nate asked from the car's interior. He tugged at his tie.

Chuck refrained from raising his eyes heavenwards. Nate was rarely - if ever - insecure, but he'd asked the same question several times. "I'm sure." He passed the blond a glass of scotch. "Now drink up. We're almost there."

Sure enough, the car had turned a sharp bend and was heading for the broad sweep of a gravel driveway. And in the distance, the intricate stone of a dark manor formed an immense shape that loomed against the night sky. The vehicle eventually drew to a stop.

Chuck climbed out first, adjusting his deep red devil's mask over his face. He wore a black suit with a black silk shirt and a matching crimson ascot. Dim lights already radiated from the house ahead, other masked guests making their way into the shadowed house. "Ready?" he enquired, glancing back at Nate.

The second boy pulled on his own mask with a sigh. "As I'll ever be."

* * *

"I told you, you should have gone as a saint. If you want Nate to forgive you-"

"Then I shouldn't lie," Serena protested. The noise she made was unhappy. "I'm the furthest thing from a _saint_ at the moment, B."

Their heels sank into the gravel as they moved towards the house. Serena was dressed in a tight fitting scarlet dress, long black gloves with her golden hair piled loosely on top of her head. A black mask concealed her features.

Blair caught her arm. "Serena. Poor judgement doesn't make you a devil." Serena went to shake her head, but Blair held on firmly. "You just need to find him and talk to him. Explain. The longer you avoid him, the worse the situation's going to get." Serena nodded as she tried to gather her resolve. "This ends tonight," Blair stressed.

They'd reached the large oak front door now.

"Ok," Serena emitted a groan. She squeezed her best friend's hands. "We're going to do this."

"Yes."

They linked arms and headed inside, peering around the panelled hallway. Blair had come here once or twice before to visit Carter's ageing relative - the woman's seventieth birthday and then again for her funeral. But now the dark wood within was all lit with candles that flickered over the exotic costumes of laughing, murmuring guests.

"Wow." Serena commented. It had been a while since she'd been to a Carter Baizen party. "This is..."

"Impressive?" A voice enquired from behind them. They turned; a figure stood by the doorway, dressed entirely in black with a silver mask. He grinned at Blair.

Blair pursed her lips. "Carter."

"I never could fool you."

Serena had folded her arms, eyebrows raised behind her mask. "Well, you _are_ dressed as a sinner. It's pretty much a giveaway." She didn't like the way Carter kept popping up. Something about the familiar way he was now talking to Blair made her uncomfortable and even more guilty.

"And so are you," Carter responded, smooth. She was definitely a sinner too. They faced off and Serena wrapped her arms around herself a little tighter. As he'd expected, she couldn't say anything else. He turned back to Blair. "But you...are an angel." Blair's dress was gold lace, gathered at the shoulders, and she wore a delicate golden mask with her dark locks curled. She looked the essence of purity - her bare skin was smooth and white against the gold, her frame slight. Carter raised her hand to his lips and it was soft, warm under his mouth.

For a moment she forgot and let her hand linger. He'd used to kiss her there all the time, half mocking but with that gaze at her that had always left her a little confused. She pulled away now because she'd forgotten how familiar it felt. And there was a burning, at the back of her neck. Eyes burning into her.

Her gaze shifted across the dusky room and it was drawn straight to one place.

A red devil mask.

Dark eyes.

Once upon a time Carter had kissed her hand in a van der Bilt drawing room, and she'd felt those same eyes on her. The same burn. And now - just like then - the second her own own eyes locked on his, Chuck turned away. Chuck broke the connection. Him. But this time it somehow seemed to hurt a thousand times worse.

It hurt and she couldn't breathe.

Serena apparently realised there was something wrong; she caught Blair's arm again, going to guide her off. "We should mingle." She whisked her into another room away from Carter. (Away from Chuck and his refusal to even hold Blair's gaze). They were pressed into a much smaller lounge now, just the two of them. And Serena could see that Blair's eyes were very dark behind the gold. She could feel the heat that emanated from her.

"B," the blonde said quietly. "What's going on with you and Carter?" Her question made Blair frown, distracted, because Carter was very clearly not the issue here. Carter? Why wasn't Serena asking what the hell was going on with Chuck? What the hell his problem was? Serena was still studying her. "Are you...are you thinking about getting back together with him?"

Blair gave her an odd look. "What? Of course not."

Serena hesitated. "It's just...you're talking to him again."

"His mother was in hospital," Blair reminded her, exasperated. Chuck and his damn _Mother Theresa _sneer earlier in the week. She hated him. She hated him so much it hurt.

"You're at his party-"

"To help you," Blair intercut. "And speaking of, we need to find Nate."

She suspected Chuck could only have come to this party for Nate. There was no other possible reason, not when he hated Carter as much as he did. Which meant, at least, that Nate was definitely here. (Chuck had come here for Nate - he _cared_ about Nate so how could he possibly want to leave? How?)

It wasn't just hate. She loathed him.

She gave Serena a little push, perhaps a tad harder than she might have intended. "Come on."

* * *

Carter noticed Tripp coming in through the entrance and strolled over to him. Thank God. For all he knew, Serena could have dragged Blair off just to tell her and could be spilling it all right now. He clapped the blond on the back. "I'm glad you made it."

Tripp smiled and Carter knew he was already looking for Serena. "Thank you for inviting me." Carter was tempted to snort, at that - did Tripp van der Bilt seriously think Carter Baizen would waste time inviting him to one of his parties without an ulterior motive? Clearly brains were lacking across the whole family. Although even Nate was better than his cousin.

"Are you ready to do some sinning?" Carter asked lazily.

Tripp slid his mask over his face, thoughts all on Serena. "I am." He wanted to sin over and over with her.

Carter watched him go with a feeling of silent satisfaction, unaware that Chuck had observed the entire exchange from behind a thick velvet curtain.

So, Chuck reflected. It didn't take a genius to work out what Carter was up to - the real question was, why was he so desperate to keep Serena away from Blair? Chuck had his own plan. It was time to get Nate to step things up a notch. Because there was no way that Chuck was letting Tripp so much as try to get in there before his best friend did.

Tripp van der Bilt was going down.

He didn't want to think of her and that gold dress. Didn't want to think of Carter's lips on her hand and the sudden, achingly familiar stab to his gut. He remembered that kiss and he remembered nine years ago, the rush of unsettling feelings that he hadn't even understood because Carter had swept Blair around the dance floor and smirked down at her and Chuck had been filled with blinding hatred for him that made no sense.

He'd been eleven years old and he'd suddenly felt like he was losing her but he hadn't understood why or even how and that had made no sense because he was Chuck Bass.

But it made sense now - now it was blindingly agonisingly fucking clear and it killed him. It had made sense the moment she'd kissed him and he wished more than anything that she never had. If she'd never kissed him that night on that rooftop then he wouldn't be quite so painfully aware that he was losing her. Again. That he'd lost her.

He tried to bury it, tried to shove it away as he headed off in search of Nate. (Because otherwise he couldn't stand it).

* * *

**A/N - Sorry this update took a little longer after I managed to get the other ones out so quickly! But I promise this party is about to pick up...Thank you so much for all of your reviews; they are incredible, and I'm so so appreciative of you for taking the time to write them :) **


	20. Chapter 20

Blair had instructed Serena that they needed to split up to hunt down Nate quicker - she also intended on reminding Nate that he loved Serena and not forgiving her was not an option if she found him first - which was why Serena had been left to explore the rooms on the right side of the mansion. The room she was currently searching was draped in red. Red to match her dress and her lipstick that she'd seen staining Tripp's shirt. Serena didn't like red. Blue, she decided, was infinitely preferable. Blair would not be impressed if she found Serena ruminating on her favourite colours instead of looking for Nate.

The blonde scanned the room.

And then she swallowed, hard. He was standing by the doorway. She could see the blond hair behind his simple white mask and his white suit and blue tie were almost blinding. The guilt consumed her again as she realised she couldn't do it. She couldn't. She moved backwards, praying he hadn't seen her and attempting to locate another exit. He was blocking the door.

Blair was probably going to kill her.

But there was another door half hidden by a deep crimson tapestry and she took another step back and fled for it.

Carter had obviously had each room decorated in different colours; they blurred past her as she ran, green and purple and gold and black. She wanted to get out. Coming to this party had been a mistake. She couldn't face Nate any more. Maybe the situation would get worse the longer she left it, but at least she wouldn't hurt him if he never found out.

There were too many people and too many masks.

She hurried past them all, along darkened corridors and shimmering candlelight until she reached a dead end. There was a door in front of her - she opened it without thinking and pushed into the room.

Her breath caught. This one was mirrored, swathed in pale blue. It was empty apart from her and her reflection, a figure in red copied a thousand times and gazing at her from each wall. Everywhere and watched by everyone. Glorious golden hair and glaring scarlet that stood out vividly against the soft whispers of azure silk. But this room felt somehow calmer than any other, airy and stretching to infinity. She exhaled.

Then turned; because there was suddenly a second figure in the mirrors. A blood red jacket and black mask, blond hair. He drew closer to her, and before she could protest, his strong hands had caught her waist and turned her into him.

His mouth was on hers and all thoughts of protest slid right out of her head. Her hand slid along his jaw, cupping his face as they kissed. Dizzying. Their reflections flashed from every side and his lips were warm and strangely, deliciously familiar. She was left breathless when they broke apart.

And then he was gone.

* * *

Nate didn't appear to be in any of the rooms on the left side. Blair hadn't thought he'd be quite so difficult to locate - there weren't _that_ many angelically dressed blonds. There were, however, plenty of drunken leches who thought that their masks somehow meant they could get away with anything. There was gratuitous dancing and there were couples engaging in acts that were definitely not acceptable in the light of day. Girls in scraps of dresses and lingerie and towering heels. Guys with rakish hair and ties unfastened.

Obviously she'd been to Carter's parties before. They all had. Serena had always been the one at the centre of all of them, twirling and indulging in everything while Nate watched and laughed. Carter would drink and smoke and watch it all with a smirk, one arm wrapped around Blair's waist. She'd used to go to them and stay longer than she wanted to because she was always worried that Carter would follow in Chuck's footsteps and find one or two or even several eager girls to sleep with. He _was_ Carter Baizen. And if that happened then she would be a laughing stock - frigid Blair Waldorf who guarded her chastity so fiercely for nothing.

Carter had thrown a huge party for his seventeenth birthday - another masquerade - in a twisting maze of underground rooms. Blair had gone to the bathroom and came back to find some gorgeous blonde giggling at him. There had been a comment from one of his sniggering friends. _Bet she puts out more than Blair Waldorf. _ Blair had left the room because she'd suddenly felt crippled by insecurity. She couldn't deal with being laughed at. She'd been alone in one of the corridors when Chuck had happened upon her. _Problem, Waldorf? _She'd seen that his shirt was unbuttoned from whoever his last conquest was and her blood had boiled. She'd told him that he needed to stop dangling temptation in front of her boyfriend, that she wasn't a slut and that made her _better_ than all the girls at the stupid party. If she'd said the same thing to Serena, she'd have received the answer that of course it did and Blair was right to wait because it needed to be the right time for her. If she'd said it to Nate, she probably would've got a bemused look but an offer to talk to Carter anyway. To defend her honour.

Chuck had shrugged. _Have sex with him if you're that worried about it, Waldorf. _It had been a challenge.

She'd glowered at him and snapped that she_ wasn't_ worried and she _wasn't_ going to have sex with him and Chuck was disgusting. He'd smirked back at her. She'd decided then that she was damn well going to make Carter wait, and she'd marched back into the room to put the nameless blonde in her place.

Except on the night she finally decided that she'd made him wait long enough - Carter had turned her down and left. _That_ night was one blur of even more humiliating memories; stupidly deciding to drink as many martinis as Serena, and Chuck having to pick her up off the floor just to hand her back to Carter. There was one vague memory of Chuck tugging the the last glass out of hand and murmuring against her ear that drunk sex wasn't as good. She didn't even remember what Carter had said to reject her, though she did remember the utterly degrading experience of throwing up _by the roadside. _She'd woken up tucked in her own bed with the knowledge that she'd not only bungled the entire thing but made an absolute fool out of herself doing it. Not acceptable for Blair Waldorf. Not for a second.

There had been a brunch thrown by Bart Bass that Serena had dragged her to, insisting Carter would only be concerned about her and loved her and would obviously still want to sleep with her. Blair hadn't believed her for a second. And she'd been right because Carter hadn't even been at the brunch. She remembered Chuck glancing at her, brow cocked. She'd expected all kinds of smarmy comments from him about the sex and all the martinis, but he'd just handed her a Bloody Mary while Serena had hugged her.

It hadn't been until her hangover was fully cured, thanks to Serena and Chuck who were well-versed in what worked and what didn't (because Blair had obviously been drunk before but never quite _that_ hungover - and she'd soon realised dealing with their hangovers was very different to dealing with her own), that they'd found out.

Victoria had called, hysterical. Carter's clothes and passport were gone.

Blair had locked herself in the bathroom and purged the entire meal Serena had coaxed down her. But it hadn't been enough because humiliation wasn't something you could expel by sticking fingers down your throat. And was there anything more humiliating than the fact that she'd thrown herself at Carter and he'd left?

Maybe the shame of her father leaving for - she couldn't say it, couldn't even think it - for _someone;_ maybe that was a close second.

_He left, just like Carter did. _

_But at least I'm warning you first. _

At least he was warning her. At least it wouldn't be humiliating. No, she thought as she stalked into the middle of the house now - she wasn't humiliated. She was a long, long way beyond humiliated.

The main hallway had a large, twisting staircase carpeted in rich burgundy and a huge candelabrum, the central window stained glass that coloured the air in strange patterns. She came to a stop under its light.

Chuck was standing seconds from her bathed in the same fragmented glow.

Chuck.

He gazed at the sweep of her lips under her mask, her delicate throat exposed to him, dark eyes liquid and her scent near enough to be intoxicating. And for one moment he wished that masks were enough and she didn't know him, didn't recognise him, so that he could kiss her. So that he could seize that small body to his and capture her bare arms and let her gold dress fall to the floor.

But even through both their masks he could feel the fury that radiated from her. He wanted that fury. Needed it. The thought that this time tomorrow, he would be on an aeroplane to Sydney and he'd never feel that heat again -

His breathing was harsh and her heart was thudding. If he kissed her now than he'd be drowning again - he was already drowning - and he wouldn't want to let go. He knew he wouldn't. Her lips were so close to his. One step towards her and she'd be in his arms. There was no one else in the hallway and they were wearing masks, and maybe for one moment nothing had to be real. Just one moment. One kiss. One taste.

A loud clang broke the silence. The pendulum of the tall ebony clock against the wall struck the hour, and the deafening chime snapped them both out of it.

Blair dragged her eyes away. She finally spotted Nate; because of course Chuck would be near him. She focused on that and that alone as she forced herself away from the stained glass window, the red devil mask - and towards the blond in the pure white suit instead. She was here for her best friend and that was the only reason.

"Why haven't you found Serena yet?" she demanded as she approached him. "She's been looking for you everywhere."

Nate looked at her in surprise. "She has? Really?"

And then Blair stilled because that was_ not_ Nate's eager voice. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to see behind the guy's mask. Oh, great. "Tripp?" She spoke icily. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I'm trying to find Serena."

Could he get any more delusional, Blair wondered? "Well, she's not trying to find you."

"But you just said-"

"She's not interested," Blair stopped him. "So give up and go home."

"Yeah?" Tripp was getting louder. "Well if she's not interested, then why did she kiss me the other night? If she'd really not interested, then why did we end up in bed together? She can lie to you all she wants, but I know the truth."

"And what truth is that?" came the soft demand. Chuck had drawn closer. He stood at Blair's side now, gaze also narrowed on Tripp. "Enlighten us. Please." It scalded with derision.

"Serena loves me-"

"Serena made a mistake," Blair said, withering. "And you took advantage of her. You found her when she was drunk and upset, and instead of looking after her like any rational person would, you took her back to your hotel room."

"Pretty pathetic," Chuck murmured, "If you ask me."

"I didn't take advantage of her," Tripp insisted furiously. "She _wanted_ it-"

He was cut off when he was punched to the floor. But not by Blair or by Chuck - by the blond in the blood red jacket who'd just emerged. Blair's eyes widened. It was with no small amount of satisfaction that she regarded Tripp try to to stagger to his feet, holding his nose. Except she recognised the red jacket. Her eyes slid to Chuck's because she knew the jacket was his. She'd pushed it off his shoulders the first night she'd kissed him. Which meant that the blond wearing it could only be -

"Nate!"

Serena arrived on the scene too late, hair in disarray. He'd already gone.

Chuck inclined his head in the direction of the room he'd just seen his best friend disappear through. "Pretty sure he went that way."

Serena shot him a confused look of gratitude, but Blair was already nudging her. "Go, S." It was now or never. The blonde smiled, weakly, and turned to hurry after him.

Chuck and Blair had already rounded back on Tripp.

"I think it's time for you to go," Blair suggested. Well, it wasn't really a suggestion at all.

Chuck had to agree. "Have a safe journey."

Tripp's nose continued to stream as he glowered at the pair of them. "She-"

"Maureen's probably waiting."

"Or filing for divorce as we speak."

Chuck and Blair exchanged an involuntary glance.

But the mention of his wife had done the trick, because Tripp finally hobbled away, still clutching his nose.

Blair could feel Chuck exhale at her side. She was having difficulty breathing herself; his proximity was too much. For a moment it had felt like it was supposed to. For a moment it had felt like she wasn't losing him. They should have been congratulating each other right now, her hands sliding over his chest as she leaned up to kiss him. His smirk on her.

"Somebody said there was a fight?" Carter's entertained voice filled the hall. "What the hell happened?" He was looking between them with evident amusement. Though he had sort of been hoping Chuck was the one who'd got punched - that was always funny.

"I'm sure Blair will fill you in." Chuck's eyes smouldered. He turned away from her, brusque, and she stared after him in anger as he disappeared. _I'm not the one walking away._ Well, that was clearly a lie. Bastard. Liar. He was lying basstard and she couldn't stand him.

"What's his problem?" Carter enquired. Seriously, what _had_ Bass done to her? He'd never seen her so furious. There was something that he couldn't entirely put his finger on, something he didn't understand about the way Blair was still glaring. He brushed it away. Whatever. As long as Chuck was stomping off and having little hissy fits he wasn't getting in his way. He caught Blair's waist. "Drink?"

* * *

"Nate."

He'd left the house and was standing on the patio outside, where the night air was considerably fresher. The building threw sloping shadows over the vast expanse of lawn before him. A light breeze stirred the leaves of towering hedges.

He turned; he'd taken his black mask off. She could see the expression on his face now. "Serena-"

"I'm sorry." Serena's eyes sparkled with tears. "Nate, I'm...sorry."

He shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"How was I supposed to tell you something like that?" she asked softly. Her shoulders slumped. "I couldn't."

Nate swallowed, trying to work out what to say next. "So that's why you've been avoiding me? Because of Tripp?"

"Yes." It was an admission of defeat.

"I was worried about you, Serena. I thought-" He stopped himself. "You can't just ignore me for days because something happens. And besides, Tripp's the one in the wrong here." He wanted to punch his cousin again. He hoped he'd broken his nose - and Nate wasn't usually violent.

"It's not like I stopped him," Serena admitted, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. It took two and she knew it.

"You were vulnerable," Nate said hotly, "And he used that." He paused as he remembered what Blair had said. "Wait," he frowned a little. "If you were avoiding me because of Tripp, then why were you unhappy before?"

Oh God. Serena bit her lower lip. "It's...a long story." A long story that she felt even more guilty about.

Nate looked at her, at the empty garden surrounding them. It wasn't like there was anyone here to overhear. He wanted - he needed - her to _talk_ to him again. No more secrets. "I've got time."

* * *

Blair followed Carter into the nearest room with a bar and then froze.

Chuck was flirting with a girl.

Chuck was flirting with a frizzy-haired whore in the sluttiest _saint_ costume Blair had ever seen. White was not pure when it was almost see-through. She couldn't believe him. He went on and on about Carter, and then he allowed some bitch to be all over him in front of her? (And even worse was the sudden thought that maybe it wasn't just in front of her). She wanted to claw the girl's eyes out. She bet she was hideous under the mask anyway.

But more importantly, she wanted to claw _his_ eyes out. Jealousy bit. Well - fine. If that was the way he wanted it. She turned to Carter deliberately. "You remember when we were together? And everything was perfect?" Chuck could hear her and she knew it. "I just want everything to go back to that time."

Carter raised a brow. "Ok." What the hell was going on with her?

"I want to get out of here. Now. With you."

Chuck was definitely listening. He was listening because he stood up, trailed by the girl, and left the room.

Blair wanted to scream.

Carter rolled his eyes and grabbed her wrists. "Waldorf. What is it?" She'd obviously been aiming that speech at someone - but who? Then he followed her gaze to Chuck's departing back. Seriously, what the hell? She'd used to frequently tell Chuck how appalling his lecherous activities were, but she'd never got this upset before. Why was she trying wave him in _Chuck's_ face? "Blair."

But she'd pulled her hands away from his grip and headed out before he could stop her.

Her teeth were grit, cold and determined, as she strode along the corridor. She could hear the stupid bitch simpering from the staircase. She walked straight past the stained glass window this time as she took the stairs. The bannister was cool under her grip. The steps creaked and the laughter was hushed, but she could feel him. She always could.

She thrust open the first door on the right.

It was a bedroom. A huge four poster bed, hung with purple, sat in the middle. And on that bed the girl was climbing all over Chuck's lap and Chuck was letting her. Blair stood before him without flinching.

"Out."

The girl looked up, confused. "Wh-"

"Get out."

The girl looked to Chuck, who she'd been about to start kissing, but he said nothing. So she got up and scurried past Blair. The door closed with a bang behind her.

And then it was just the two of them. Alone.

"What is this?" Blair demanded.

Chuck glanced up at her, slowly. His tone was indifferent. "Well, I think it was about to be a good time before you interrupted. What's wrong - do you and Carter need the bedroom?"

Her eyes flashed. "Oh, I'm the whore here?"

"I highly doubt Carter needs to pay you."

She wanted to_ slap_ him. Sitting so carelessly on the bed as his eyes flickered over her - she wanted to slap him, and it would have been easy because the girl he'd been with had taken his mask off. "What is your problem?"

_You're my problem. _He just shrugged at her. At every inch of her perfect body and that gold dress and the deliciously painful feel of her spite. "I figured, since we're all slipping back into old habits..."

"You know what, Bass?" She'd discarded her own mask now. "You're the one who's obsessed with Carter. Not me."

His gaze shot up to hers, at that. "Really?" he sneered.

Her teeth were still grit. "I'm glad you're going to Australia," she said venomously. "And I'm glad that you're going to hate it - because," she snorted, "You can lie all you want, but you will. You won't have Nate. You won't have Lily. You'll have _nothing_."

"At least I won't have to watch the sickening act of you and Baizen part two."

She stared at him. "You can't stand it, can you?" Her voice was brittle. "You can't stand the idea of someone like Carter Baizen loving me, and you were relieved when he left because you were right. You know," she laughed, "When Harold found out that I went to the Hamptons with you, he told me not to get involved in a petty rivalry between you and Carter." Chuck was silent - she'd never mentioned this to him. "Obviously I told him he was wrong. But you're the one who keeps bringing Carter up. So, what?" It snapped out of her. "Are you scared he's going to win? I mean," she shook her head, wild, "Is that why you told me you loved me?"

Chuck was staring now. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm not back together with Carter," she ground out, "And I'm not_ going_ to get back together with him. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that we're over. You've won, Chuck. He doesn't get the girl. So if you've got some kind of competition over who can leave in the most dramatic way-"

The door clicked open. They both fell quiet and their gazes moved to Carter, who stood in the doorway.

Carter watched them and he didn't understand. With Blair's mask off, he could see the anguish written all over her face. Anguish. Because Chuck Bass had apparently been about to sleep with someone else? "Waldorf," he attempted. "Since when do you care so much about Bass's night time activities?" There was a rigid silence. "Come on." It was almost a snap now - because he could see the look in her eyes. "You don't care about_ Bass._"

"No," Blair responded very tightly as those eyes never left the boy on the bed. "And it's obvious he doesn't care about me." She snatched up her mask and stalked out.

Carter remained where he was. Blair's eyes had been dark and glossy with tears that she'd refused to let spill. Tears. Over Chuck Bass. So apparently Bass wasn't satisfied with the girls he threw in Carter's face already - he had to go after this one too. While Carter had been away.

"So, what?" he sneered as his gaze landed on Chuck. "The boys and the scotch weren't enough? You decided you had to have my girlfriend?"

"Funny," Chuck bit back. "I wasn't aware Blair considered herself your girlfriend while you were screwing your way around Asia."

Carter's lip curled in sheer malice. "I said you could take the rest, Bass. But Blair isn't a trophy you can steal in your pathetic attempt to one-up me."

"In case you've forgotten, Baizen," Chuck snarled back, "Blair and I knew each other a long time before we knew _you_."

Carter stared for a moment – and then he laughed, harshly. "So you've been pining over her all this time?" His eyes gleamed. "Well, it all makes sense now." How rich. Hadn't he always suspected? Ignored, yes; but it all made sense now because Blair had always been the only girl that Chuck wasted his time on outside of the bedroom. And the memory of Carter's last night in New York glimmered - Chuck helping a drunk Blair. Watching out for her. Watching her. Just like he always did. Carter took a step closer, head tilted. "It must have killed you that she wanted me. Because she did, didn't she? She wanted me. Not you. Is that why you've tried so hard to copy me for so long? Have you been waiting," his voice rose in scorn, "In the side lines, just in case I disappeared so she'd finally look your way?"

"Well," Chuck hissed in return, "It didn't exactly take you long to disappear, now, did it?"

Carter simply scoffed. "But that's all you have. You stayed, and I didn't. She chose _me_, and she loved _me_. She wanted to marry _me_ – for years. You really think that just goes away?"

Chuck's face was white with loathing. "You threw it away."

"Maybe," Carter answered, deadly, "But at least I'm fighting for her now. Just like I did then. Nine years, Bass - and you never once even tried to stand in my way? You're pathetic," he jeered. "If you really wanted her, then you wouldn't have let anyone else take her away. Just like I'm sure as hell not going to now."

Chuck shoved aside the burning in his chest. "If _you_ really wanted Blair," it came out cold, "Then you never would have left in the first place. If you really wanted her, then you'd be married now." (And didn't that _kill _him). "Face it. You only want Blair when you think you can't have her."

There was a pause, and Carter's jaw clenched. He regarded the other guy. "You have no idea," he said at last. "No idea about our relationship. You only ever watched from the side lines, Bass. Watched and copied. And now you think maybe if you you hold her hand like I did, you can pretend to be her boyfriend? You think if she kisses you every now and then, you can pretend to be anything other than a pale imitation of _me_?"

Something flickered in Chuck's eyes. His teeth were ground just like Blair's had been and he said nothing. But Carter saw it. The flicker. It was a flicker he didn't like. Something horrible clicked into place. And cold realisation washed over him, almost paralyzed him. No. She couldn't have. He couldn't –

Carter let out a short, sharp breath. "You slept with her."

Chuck said nothing.

There was suddenly something blinding Carter's vision. The sick son of a bitch had –

She'd had sex with _him_? She'd had sex. The virginity that she cared about so much, that she'd held onto for so long, the magical first time – she'd given it all to _him_. All those times Carter had kissed her, all the times she'd stopped him, pulled his hands down and told him she wanted it to be special. It had been _everything_ to her. And she'd given it to Chuck. He'd taken it. Blair had had sex. With Chuck. With _him_. He'd slept with her.

"So, what?" Carter's voice sounded foreign to his own ears. "She wanted revenge, and you thought you'd step up? I bet you loved that. I bet you _loved_ her using you to get revenge on me. Did you use the same suite? The one she'd booked for us?"

And the thought of Chuck and Blair in the hotel room that he'd walked away from –

"Of course." It was like ice when Chuck finally spoke. "Because Blair's first thought after she discovered you'd left without even saying goodbye was obviously to have _sex_. That's _exactly_ what she was doing while Eleanor was losing it and everyone was asking where you were and what she'd done."

Carter refused to listen any more. He _couldn't_. He turned his back, rigid. "Get out," he spat. "Get out of my party."

* * *

Nate and Serena were sitting side by side on the patio steps now. Clouds laced the sky and Nate's jacket was draped around Serena's shoulders.

"We can't let him go to Australia," Nate gazed at her. "We can't just...let Bart win."

"I know," Serena said miserably. "But I don't know how. Blair's the only person who can convince him to stay, and she won't even talk to him."

"And Chuck doesn't even seem to be trying to fight back," Nate realised. "I don't understand it." Chuck always fought. He always had a scheme and a plan.

"Blair's scared." Serena had shifted, unconsciously, into the warmth that Nate provided. She glanced across at him now. "She's scared she's going to lose him, and she can't think straight. We need to make her feel brave."

"Yeah." Neither of them said anything for a moment. Then Nate seemed to notice the chill in the air; he went to stand up. "We should go back inside." Serena smiled and he pulled her to his feet.

He was just about to open the door for her when she brushed his arm. "Nate?"

He turned. She was hesitant - his brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Are we...gonna talk about that kiss?" Her hand was still on his sleeve.

"Oh." He looked almost sheepish as his blue eyes slid away from hers. "Uh, yeah." He grinned uncomfortably. "It was Chuck's idea...the devil. Pretty dumb."

He made her smile again. "Well, I don't know about that..." Her tone turned teasing as she bit her lip, watching for his reaction. "It was pretty hot."

The turn of his mouth and twinkle in his blue eyes made her stomach somersault. "It was," he admitted with a laugh.

She was still holding his arm as their heads drew closer. She heard the hitch in his breathing; her lips met his and her eyes closed. His hand shifted to grip her waist as he kissed her back. And she felt her body melt into his, the warm familiar strength of his arms and his mouth making the cold air fade away to nothing.

* * *

Chuck was more than happy to get out of Carter's party. The sooner the better. He couldn't find Nate - but there was no sign of Serena either, so he assumed they were together. In which case, they could leave together.

He ordered his driver to take him home as he jerked the car door shut.

And then he leaned back against the leather seats, closing his eyes. The car pulled away from the house and was soon streaking down the dark road. He had at least accomplished one thing tonight if Nate was finally with Serena. But everything else -

He was jolted upright as the car lurched to a stop. "Arthur?" he glanced at his driver in irritation. "If it's a deer, just run it over."

"It's not a deer, sir."

The man was peering anxiously through the window, and Chuck strained to see too - he made out, then, that there was another car blocking their path. Chuck swore and climbed out of his own vehicle. He was followed by Arthur. The other car had skidded sideways and there was smoke billowing from the bonnet. And, Chuck realised horribly, a driver slumped in the front seat.

But this was obviously a car from the party, and if that was the case then there should have been a passenger.

Arthur scratched his head. "I thought I saw a girl, sir, a little way back-"

Something icy gripped Chuck. A girl. The party was a long way from winding down, so no one else had a reason to leave, and he hadn't seen her in the house as he'd left. He'd already started to head down the road where Arthur had indicated. "Check the driver," he instructed curtly over his shoulder.

The asphalt under his feet was too dark and the trees overhead obscured everything else. He carried on regardless, and his heart had started to pound -

A glimmer of gold.

"Blair."

There was a figure by the side of the road; he didn't think, he moved. She turned as he caught her arms, eyes black and frightened because for a moment she didn't know who he was.

He held her until she realised.

"Chuck." She breathed out.

"What happened?" His grip was hard enough to hurt.

"I think there was a deer," she muttered, "And we swerved - Serena's driver hit his head so I told him to stay in the car while I got help."

The house was at least two miles away. He regarded her in the darkness. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

She was cold, though, and shaky. He could feel it. "I'll drive you back. We can get your driver to the hospital."

She wanted to snap back that she was too angry to look at him, that it hurt too much and even the feel of his hands on her bare arms was too much. But she was still a long way from the house and she wasn't an idiot. "Fine."

He released her and her body screamed at the loss. Tears stabbed at her eyes. Why did _he_ have to find her, of everyone? And what was wrong with the stupid deer in this stupid place? Leaving Manhattan at all was a terrible idea. How could he _leave_? She turned her face from him, glad that it was dark as they walked back up the road. Glad that he couldn't see her. She had to pull herself together because there was no way that she was giving him satisfaction of seeing her cry.

She bit down viciously on the inside of her cheeks to regain her composure. She _couldn't_ cry in front of him.

They got back to find Arthur helping the other driver out of the car - he brushed off their concerns to insist that he was fine and didn't need the hospital. Just a ride back to the city. He climbed into the passenger seat of Chuck's car while Arthur resumed his place behind the steering wheel. "Ready, sir?"

Blair refused to look at Chuck as she got into the backseat.

He slid in next to her.

"Arthur. Do we have a blanket?"

He sensed Blair stiffen. "I don't need-" He tossed the cashmere at her before she could say anything else. He'd wanted to give her his jacket but he knew she wouldn't accept the damn thing. Her lips thinned but she pulled the material, stiffly, over her. "Thanks."

She kept her eyes fixed ahead as the engine started and Arthur maneuvered past the other car. Her hands were clenched in her lap under the blanket. Chuck was silent. It was his silence that she didn't think she could take much more of. She was tired and she wanted to cry and she wanted this awful, unbearable journey to be over. Except as soon as it was, Chuck would be gone. And that made her want to cry even more. So she clenched her hands and said nothing.

There were no street lights outside to illuminate her face, but he could sense that she was verge of tears. He knew how much she'd hate that. So he picked up the bottle that he and Nate hadn't finished earlier and poured her a glass. Obviously, she refused to take it.

"Scotch is good for shock."

"You must think you're in a permanent state of shock, then."

"I'm not the one shaking right now."

So she snatched the glass from him just to prove that she wasn't. "I'm surprised you left. I thought you'd lined up a nice girl to sleep with."

"I wouldn't have been sleeping with her if she was nice."

"You're right," Blair countered acidly. "I meant moronic - because otherwise she wouldn't have been sleeping with you."

"Never seemed to stop y-"

"I had a two year lapse of judgement."

He looked at her. "You need to actually drink that for it to work."

She shot daggers at him over the glass as she took a mouthful. It stung. "So are you all packed?" And that stung even more, but he didn't answer. "Don't tell me you're staying?"

"My flight's tomorrow night."

She tried to ignore the hard kick in her gut as he said it, and swallowed more scotch instead. She didn't know how he managed to drink it like water - but a few sips later it did have a pleasant numbing effect.

Her fingers were wrapped around the vessel. "I don't know why you're still lying. You wouldn't survive a second outside of New York and you know it." It was as cold as she could make it. She sensed rather than saw his mouth tighten, but he said nothing. She took another savage gulp. "Well, I can see this is going to be another _riveting_ conversation." She turned her face to stare out of the window.

Chuck looked at her, but she refused to glance round.

The car carried on down the road as the trees gradually thinned out. And the closer they got to the city -

"If I stay here, then I'm not a Bass." Chuck's voice was hard. "Bart won't let me see the inside of a hotel or single event. I won't even have my trust fund. How is Australia going to be any worse than that? At least he won't be there to watch my every move."

She turned from the window. Swallowed, hard, as she searched his face in the shadow. Because she couldn't deny any of what he'd said. (But if he was here then he could fight and _they_ could fight-) Except he was saying that wasn't enough. And she couldn't promise him that they'd win or that he'd get any of those things back, and maybe her faith wasn't enough. Maybe she wasn't enough. "Chuck-"

"This is the only way."

She struggled to breathe out. She wanted to tell him he was wrong but the only reason she could come up with was because she didn't want to lose him. Because she couldn't lose him. So she finished the scotch instead, and it burned the whole way down.

She lowered the empty glass when they finally pulled up outside the Waldorf penthouse. She could feel his heat next to her on the seat. She didn't want to get out of the car. She made herself push the blanket off and take hold of the door handle. "Thank you," she managed. The words were all stuck in her throat. She couldn't do it. She couldn't look at him and she yanked the door open and spilled into the cool night air. She needed to get up to her room and she needed to -

"Blair."

He'd got out of the car. He stood before her, the summer's breeze ruffling his dark hair and his eyes aflame with an even darker emotion that burned her more than the scotch had.

He forced the air out of his lungs. "It wasn't because of a stupid rivalry with Baizen. I didn't even think about him until he came back."

She stared up at him. She couldn't do it. She wanted him to say that he was staying and he wasn't going to. He wasn't staying. She had the wild urge to tell him that she'd go with him, to beg him to take her with him - but the words wouldn't come. She remembered his refusal to look at her when Bart had asked if she'd be joining him, and she was filled with the sudden fear that maybe she wasn't enough. If she asked to go with him and he said no, she didn't think she'd be able to bear it.

"Ok."

Her voice broke.

She turned into the building, and it wasn't until the elevator doors had closed and Chuck could no longer see her that she cried.

And Chuck stood on the sidewalk, hands curled in useless fists.

* * *

**A/N - Ok, I really hope the angst is not starting to wear too thin...I can promise you that this is the last little bit? :) Thank you lots and lots for all of your reviews! **


	21. Chapter 21

It was the early hours of dawn, and Blair was lying flat on her back in bed when she heard the elevator go. She stilled. The doorman would only have let someone up at this hour if he recognised them. If they'd been insistent. She scrambled out of bed, heart in her throat, and dragged a dressing gown over her slip. Her feet almost slipped down the stairs. Please, please -

Carter Baizen was standing in her apartment.

She tried not to let the searing disappointment or the crushing need to cry overwhelm her as she noticed that he looked pale. (Hadn't she cried enough already?) He was still in his party clothes, but he'd obviously lost his mask and his hair was no longer as sleek as it had been when she'd seen him several hours earlier.

"Carter?"

He turned to her. His eyes were hooded and she didn't understand the expression in them. "You and Bass." He looked a mess, but somehow not like he'd been after Victoria's hospitalisation.

She tensed just at the mention of Bass and dragged her robe tighter. "What about us?" For one crazy moment she hoped Carter was about to tell her something like maybe Chuck wasn't going after all.

"Was it revenge?" he asked abruptly.

Her stomach dropped. Oh. Her eyes flickered over Carter as she pulled the robe even closer to her body. It hung between them and she wondered how he'd even found out. "No." She was tired and she didn't want to talk about it, because as far as she was concerned her sex life was no longer any of Carter's business. She didn't want to talk about sex with him, not after the last humiliating night that she'd -

"Were you drunk?"

"No."

(No, that had just been when she'd tried to sleep with _him_).

"Then, what? You momentarily forgot that you spent the best part of five years complaining about how disgusting and depraved he was?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Am I supposed to be asking you about every girl you've slept with?"

"I'm just curious about why him."

"Because I wanted to," she responded frostily. It wasn't like Carter even cared. He didn't have a right to complain about her virginity when it would have been his if he'd stayed - and the reminder stung. "Maybe I got sick of waiting like you did." She had been sick of waiting, but that hadn't been why she'd kissed Chuck. She hadn't even been thinking about waiting or control when she'd kissed him after their graduation party. She hadn't been thinking about anything but Chuck. Just like she was now. She glanced up the stairs to where her bedroom was. "If you don't mind-"

"Wait." Carter exhaled, lip twisting. "I'm not here to talk about Bass."

"Then what are you here for?" It came out flat because she wasn't in the mood. She wanted to go back upstairs and lock herself in her bedroom. (She wanted Chuck).

"I wasn't really in the mood to party after..." Carter released a scoff but there was still that strange expression on his face. "So I went home." He swallowed. "Victoria left."

Blair stared at him. "What?"

"She left. There was a note from her. She wasn't at the Colony Club at all - she let me have the house for the party to get me out of the way." And wasn't it rich? Carter hadn't even written her a note when he'd abandoned home. "She's gone to Montecito."

Blair shook her head. "Maybe she went on a retreat-"

"No." Carter attempted a shrug. "She's not coming back. She said that the penthouse was going to be seized on Monday. Apparently she didn't know how to tell me. But she left me my trust fund," he laughed, bitterly, "And the Oyster Bay house." Which was more than he'd ever left her. He felt drained and exhausted and he'd had enough of all of it.

Blair closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry," she said, at last. She'd never wanted _this_ to happen.

"I don't care about the penthouse." Carter snorted faintly. "I always hated it." He'd had enough and it was about time he told her - Carter Baizen did not do sappy shitty romantic speeches, except it had taken tonight to realise that he couldn't deny it any more. "But," his jaw slid, "The thing is...when I read the note, Waldorf, you were the first person I thought about." His voice was very low.

"Carter-"

"You were the only person I wanted to see," he murmured. And that had trumped any knowledge that she'd slept with Chuck Bass. She'd frozen now. "Blair," he said quietly. "I love you." His mouth twisted in what was not quite a smile. "And I tried to run away from it for three years, but I never could. I'm in love with you."

No. No, he wasn't saying this to her. "You're upset," she started, even. "Your mother just left and you need support-"

"If I wanted that kind of support I'd go to a shrink," he cut her off drily. "Which, let's face it, you're not." He took a step closer and his gaze was harder to read than it had ever been. She'd never seen him look at her like that. Even when they'd been going out, all the countless times he'd told her he loved her, it had always been with a faint curve to his mouth that wasn't there now. "I need...you."

No. He was lying and he was wrong. He hadn't needed her three years ago. And now just because he'd come back and found out he might be penniless - "You said you loved me when you left." It spilled out of her. Cold. "But if you really loved me, and you really needed me, then you never would have gone." Her eyes blazed. "You left me, Carter, and you didn't even write. You never called to let me know what was happening. You never explained. You _left_ me. You lied to me for five years, and you don't get to lie to me now."

He looked at her for a moment. And he made a noise that was almost laughter. "The only person I lied to was myself." Her expression was blank so he drew her even closer. "I didn't call or write because I wanted to pretend I didn't care. You are the_ only_ thing I ever regretted leaving. Blair, you're the reason I came back." He moved his head, eyes travelling over her face. "You're the only reason I want to stay. I've been in love with you since...you gave me that piece of mistletoe, and running away for three years," he shrugged, "Didn't do anything to change that." Blair had amused and entertained and appealed to him from the first time he'd met her, but it had been her smile on Christmas Eve by the fireside that he'd first felt that odd stirring. "What we had was real." He caught her face, thumb running over her cheek. He hadn't touched her like this in so long. "I never lied to you."

She felt confused and dizzy in his hold. She couldn't handle him telling her he loved her - she needed him to be a liar because there had still been some kind of deception. There had to have been. "What are you saying?" He loved her? He really had loved her?

"I'm saying I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to fight for you, Waldorf, even it means I have to get my father's company back."

"But," she struggled, "You said you didn't care about his company."

He grimaced, slightly, and he released her cheek. "I don't." She couldn't tell if it was a grimace or a smile. "I care about you."

He saw her throat move as she exhaled. She was still struggling. "Carter..."

"It's late." His hand brushed hers, just briefly. "I should probably let you sleep." He turned for the elevator and he glanced back once. His voice was soft, softer than Carter Baizen ever usually was. "I'll wait."

Blair was left at a complete loss.

* * *

Serena sat up, lifting her head from Nate's chest. After they'd realised both their cars were gone they'd had no choice other than to wait until the next day to leave for the city again. They'd fallen asleep on a silk chez longue in the house's conservatory, and sunlight was now filtering through the large glass windows. Somewhere on the floor there was a tangle of gloves and masks and a tie. She felt Nate stir under her; she looked down into his sleepy blue eyes. Smiled. "Hey."

He stretched and smiled back. "Hey. Ugh," he mumbled, "We shouldn't have slept on the sofa." His back was killing him now.

She nudged him playfully. "Next time we'll make sure it's a bed."

And at that, he glanced at her. "So there's gonna be a next time, huh?" There was a grin creasing the corners of his mouth.

"Maybe." His hands were settled, comfortable, on her hips. She would have been more than happy to just curl back up against him. She made herself swing her legs over the side of the sofa and onto the floor, shaking out her hair. "But not until we stop Chuck from leaving." She stood up. "Blair first?"

Nate sighed and got to his feet too. "Blair first."

* * *

When they got to Blair's penthouse, however, it was to find that her door was locked and she was refusing to even answer them. Nate exchanged a glance with Serena as they stood outside her bedroom.

"Come on," Serena insisted. "B, we need to talk."

"I'm not in the mood."

"Blair," Nate attempted, "Chuck's flight is at nine o'clock tonight-"

"Go away!"

He looked, helplessly, at Serena. "What's wrong with her?" he whispered.

"I don't know." The blonde was frowning now. If Blair was refusing to even acknowledge that Chuck was going to leave - if she wasn't even planning on saying goodbye - then it was serious. It was bad. Then it was obviously affecting her even more than Serena had first thought. She paused, for a moment. "Ok," she said quietly to Nate. "Stay here."

"Where are you going?" She was leaving _him_ to deal with Blair? Alone?

She squeezed his hand. "To talk to Chuck."

* * *

Chuck glanced up from the large suitcase that he was mid-packing, and his eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing here?"

His father stood in the doorway of his suite. Bart ignored the obvious hostility from the boy, however, and strode in. "I've booked a car for you this evening. Seven o'clock. I assume you'll be ready to go by then?" His gaze settled on the suitcase.

"Yes," Chuck bit.

Bart nodded. "Good. I sent a letter to Jack to let him know when you're arriving, but...you know your uncle. And given how unreliable correspondence to Australia is, I'm not even sure it will have reached him."

"Fine."

"I suppose this is goodbye then." Bart's lips thinned, and there was an impassive glint in his eyes. "I have to say, I'm glad there hasn't been any trouble from you." His hand rested, briefly, on his son's shoulder - and it was a cold weight. "You're making the right decision."

Chuck finally looked at the man. His voice seethed with quiet loathing when he spoke. "If I never have to see you again, then it's the best decision I've ever made."

Bart's cruel smile faded a little, and he took his hand away. "It's funny," he mused, coldly, "That's exactly what Jack said. At least now you'll get the chance to ask how that's working out for him."

He swept out of the room - and almost collided with Serena. The blonde glowered at him. Bart just rolled his eyes and walked past her.

Slowly, Serena ventured into the suite herself. She looked around at the piles of folded clothes, the empty bottle and the ominous suitcase that waited by the door. Chuck ignored her. He was too busy taking down a painting from the wall - Bart had instructed him that the suite needed to be completely cleared.

Serena studied him for a moment, his blank expression and the dangerous slant of his cheekbones. He wasn't handsome like Nate, but there was something about those hazel eyes and the odd contours of his face that girls found disconcertingly attractive. He was a bad boy, but Serena herself didn't find him attractive the same way she had Carter. She couldn't, because he was Chuck. Maybe she knew him too well. Only Blair knew him just as well - if not better - and had still fallen for him. Blair had always understood him. Blair had always been fiercely protective of him, even if she'd never have admitted it in a million years, and all the parts of him that exasperated or even disturbed Serena (maybe because that self-destructive tendency was too similar to hers and then some) were the same parts that made Blair hold on even tighter when she should have been running away.

When Serena had caught them at her engagement party, she'd mostly just been upset that Blair hadn't told her. That Blair was acting like everything was fine when clearly it wasn't. Blair was very strict on rules, and she would never have had an affair with an engaged man purely for sex. Purely for fun. If Blair crossed the line, then it was for three possible reasons - love, hate, or revenge. At the time - before Blair had revealed Serena's affair with Tripp - the only reason that Serena could see was love.

Which had explained why Blair had been so pale and distant throughout their engagement. She was in love with Chuck. And Serena had been so busy wrapping her head around that, that she hadn't even considered why Chuck was doing it.

She watched him now. He'd never given a damn about marriage or commitment. Enough girls had cheated on their husbands or boyfriends with him, and he was happy to oblige for one night. If Blair had needed to get over Carter, then Serena knew for a fact that Chuck would've been more than happy to help. They were friends and he cared about her and of course he found her hot - Serena didn't doubt any of those things. If Blair had been insecure or vulnerable after Carter left, then Serena could imagine Chuck helping the only way he knew how. Sex. He cared about Blair. He let her look after him, however grudgingly - and Chuck Bass did not let anyone look after him - and he took down anyone who crossed her, read her mind when even Serena couldn't, schemed with her and was weirdly tender with her (as tender as Chuck Bass could ever be) when she needed it. That first Christmas after Carter had left, he'd gone along with Serena's plan to cheer her up even though he hated festive cheer. Blair had sprained her ankle in the snow, mainly because she hadn't wanted to go outside and Serena had dragged her a little too enthusiastically, and Chuck had carried her all the way back to her bedroom.

He cared about her. Serena knew that - what she didn't know was how much. She wasn't sure she could imagine Chuck in love. She remembered Nate saying he'd picked up on something even when he hadn't known they were sleeping together; and she had to admit that if Chuck loved anyone, then it could have been Blair. But if that was the case then why the hell was he leaving?

"Chuck." She sat down on his bed. "What are you doing?"

"I thought I was packing," he drawled. "Obviously not."

Serena sighed. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For telling Bart. I know this is my fault," she pressed, "And I want to fix it."

He spared her a glance. "Don't worry." He'd picked up a scarf that she recognised - silken patchwork. He wore it all the time. "I forgive you." His tone was dry as he tossed the scarf to the side.

Serena raised an eyebrow. "Didn't Blair give you that?"

He didn't look at it again. "It doesn't snow in Sydney."

"Chuck-"

"Is there a reason that you're here?" he asked, brusque. "Not that I don't love spending time with you, but I'm kind of busy at the moment. Why aren't you with Nathaniel?"

Serena folded her arms. "He's with Blair. She won't come out of her room."

"So shouldn't you be with her too?"

"I can try to cheer her up," Serena responded, "But nothing I say will really make a difference. You're the only person who can do that."

"I don't have time to amuse Waldorf today." He dropped a jacket into his bag. "You can pass on my apologies."

Serena stared at him. "So you're not even going to say goodbye?" She shook her head. "Why are you doing this, Chuck? You know how devastated she was when Carter left. How could you do this to her?"

"Carter's back now."

But Serena wasn't having that. "Carter's not the reason she's hiding in her room and refusing to speak to anyone," she said firmly. "She's terrified of losing you. And you're not even trying. If she ends up going back to Carter, then it's your fault. She doesn't belong with Carter and you know it."

Chuck's eyes finally flickered over the blonde. "And how do you know? Because he slept with you?"

Serena stilled. "How did you-?"

"Baizen flinches every time you walk into the room."

Serena bit her lip. "It was a mistake."

"You were angry with Blair. I'm pretty sure she'll understand." Chuck picked up a Rolex and slid it into his bag, turning his back to her. "You should tell her sooner rather than later. You know how much she hates secrets."

Yes, Serena knew that. She also knew that Carter sleeping with her would be the least of Blair's worries if Chuck really was leaving forever. "Chuck." She was starting to get impatient. "It doesn't matter what Carter did or didn't do - Blair doesn't belong with him because she's in love with you. I don't know why I have to keep telling you this, but she loves you - and she deserves for you to at least fight for her if you feel the same way." Chuck said nothing, so Serena finally stood up and yanked the shirt he'd been about to pack out of his hands. "Do you love her at all?"

His eyes were hollow, but she realised that his breathing was uneven. It made her pause. She was still holding the shirt as she took him in - and she saw it, for the first time. Pain.

"You love her," she exhaled. "So why are you just giving up?"

"Bart hasn't exactly given me a choice," Chuck ground back.

"He's disinheriting you either way," Serena pointed out. "And at least if you stayed you'd have Blair."

"I wouldn't_ have_ Blair. And you know as well as I do that she doesn't want someone penniless. Someone who can't even provide for her."

Serena ran a hand through her hair in exasperation. "It's not like she needs money, Chuck. And you can make your own. I mean, making money is what you do best. Isn't it better to stay and at least try-"

"If I stay, Blair will be penniless too." His jaw was almost painfully clenched.

Serena crinkled her brow, confused. "What are you-"

"Bart's going to after Waldorf Designs unless I leave tonight."

The blonde's eyes widened. "What?"

"He's the one who took Givenchy," Chuck snapped, "And he's not going to stop there."

Serena attempted to process what he was saying. "But...come on, he's going against Eleanor Waldorf. You seriously think he'll succeed?"

Chuck's lip curled. "I'm not giving him the chance to." He removed the shirt from her and allowed it fall into his bag. There were a few seconds of silence. Chuck wished Serena would just go. This needed to be a clean break, and if she kept hanging around -

"Companies can be rebuilt, Chuck. Even if Bart does succeed, Blair will get over it."

He gave the blonde a look of incredulity. "You really think I'm going to do that to her?" Blair would _get over_ it?

"But if you go to Australia," Serena carried on determinedly, "What's to stop him going after Waldorf Designs anyway? What's to stop him going after my mom again?"

"Look-"

"She might get over losing the company," Serena shook her head, "But she won't get over losing you." Chuck was silent and Serena folded her arms once more. "If you leave, Chuck, she'll never get over it."

* * *

"Come on, Blair." Nate had given up standing and was now sat on the floor, head leant against Blair's door. "It's already half three. You have less than six hours until Chuck boards that plane. Don't you at least want to say goodbye?"

Nothing.

"You know he doesn't want to go. He loves you. Are you really just going to let him get away?"

Silence.

"Blair-"

"Go _home_, Nate. Go find Serena."

"Believe me," Nate muttered, "I would. We didn't even get to have breakfast together."

He almost fell backwards as the door was suddenly yanked open. Blair was glaring down at him, robe tied savagely around her waist. "Did you sleep with Serena last night, Archibald?"

His eyes widened. "What?"

"What happened to not rushing?" Blair demanded. "I can't believe you. You make up and you're having sex two minutes later? What is _wrong_ with you?"

Nate's forehead furrowed, defensive. "Hey. At least we were actually made up."

There was a beat. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Last time we were in the Hamptons, you and Chuck were fighting all dinner. You both disappeared for the main meal, and when you came back for dessert you were still arguing. Over a motorcycle," he added, pleased with himself for remembering. His tone was triumphant. "I do notice some things."

Chuck had bought the stupid motorcycle because it was a special model - not because he actually had any interest in riding. After Blair had told him it was a waste of time (he'd been late for a rendez-vous because he'd been bidding for it) he'd taken her out on the damn thing, and he'd gone so fast round the corners that Blair had insisted he couldn't drive any more. Except the thrill had gone to her head when she'd wrested the control off him, and she'd ended up going twice as fast until they took a bend in the road too hard. They had, at least, landed in grass - but the motorcycle had smashed into a tree and she'd scratched the side of her face on its branches. Chuck had been furious. He'd marched her to the nearest hospital and she'd accused him of being more upset about the bike. He _had_ been upset. And yes, they'd taken out their anger in the nearest coat closet during dinner.

She'd bought him a new motorcycle a week later, and they'd both forbidden each other from riding it. It was on display in his suite now. She wondered if he'd get it shipped to Australia - and she didn't know what was worse, the thought that it was going with him or the thought that he'd leave it behind.

Nate seemed to notice her silence, and he looked guilty when he saw her shuttered face. "Blair-"

"I'm going back to bed." She turned abruptly and closed the door in his face.

But this time she didn't lock it, and she was lying on her bed a while later when Serena pushed it open. She'd come straight from Chuck's suite - Nate had told her his attempts hadn't done anything. The blonde sighed now as she saw her best friend curled in a ball, staring blindly at her dresser.

"B."

She moved all the way into the room and lay down next to her on the mattress.

Blair was cold.

"B-"

"Can we just not talk?" Blair's voice was so stiff it seemed to be at breaking point. "Please?"

So Serena didn't press further. She leaned her head on the other girl's instead, chin propped over her. "Ok." Her hand twined with Blair's. She could sense the tears that were staining the silk coverlet, even though Blair didn't make a sound.

Time dragged out until Blair eventually regained control of her breathing. She closed her eyes. She'd missed Serena. She'd missed Serena, and the only reason she'd coped at all during the entire year she'd been gone was because she'd had Chuck. But it had still felt like a part of her was missing. She'd finally got that part back, and she felt like she was going to be ripped to pieces all over again.

She shifted on the bed.

"Why did you sleep with Nate?"

Serena glanced down at her. "I didn't," she said in surprise. "I mean... I wanted to. We kissed." (A lot). "But I told him we should wait."

Blair tilted her head, a little. "You did?" She was impressed.

Serena smiled and squeezed her. "I may have mentioned that you'd kill us if we didn't at least have a date first."

"I'm proud," Blair laughed, watery.

They were quiet again. "Blair," Serena started very gently. She had to tell her the truth about why Chuck was leaving. She needed to know.

"Carter told me he loved me."

Serena froze. "He...what?"

"He said he loved me," Blair murmured, "And he's in love with me, and he's going to fight for me." She shut her eyes again. "I don't understand. If he loved me, then why did he leave?" Why wasn't love enough? Why?

Serena didn't know what to say. "He didn't...I don't think he left because of anything to do with you. He just couldn't handle being told what to do his whole life. He wanted to get out." That much she at least knew. Carter did love Blair - even when he'd slept with Serena, she'd known that he loved Blair. She'd always been able to see it in the way he looked at her, the way she made him smile. But that didn't mean that he was right for her.

"That's what he told me, but...if he was lying about that when we were together, then he had to have been lying when he said he loved me."

Slowly, Serena stroked her best friend's hair. She hesitated. "He was bored, B. Not with you - but with everything else. He was always bored." She'd been horrified when Carter had left - for Blair's sake - and furious with him, but she hadn't been completely stunned. Or, she'd been stunned that he'd left Blair but not that he'd left _here_. Not that he'd gone travelling.

Blair turned to stare at her. "But if he was that bored, why didn't I notice? Why did you notice and not me?"

Serena couldn't tell her. She couldn't tell her that maybe she'd never noticed because she'd been too carried away, because the only thing Carter had ever put any effort into was her. "I don't know," she whispered instead. "But Blair...Chuck _doesn't_ want to go. You know him."

Just like that, Blair stiffened all over again. "I don't want to talk about this."

"But-"

Blair was suddenly getting up, though, pulling out of Serena's hold. "I need to go."

It was almost five now. "To Chuck?" the blonde begged.

"To Carter."

Serena jumped off the bed after her, grabbing her hands. "B, wait. There's something you need to know."

Blair tried to brush her off. "Whatever it is-"

"I need to tell you." Serena gulped, hard, but refused to let go of the brunette. ""Last year, after I left...I went to Europe."

"That's great."

Serena ignored her. "I was travelling around Greece, and I ended up in Santorini. I got drunk, and I went to a bar...and I ran into Carter." She watched the expression on Blair's face - and something flickered. Serena made herself go on anyway. "I was still really mad at you, and I think he was still feeling guilty, and..."

"You had sex."

There were tears shining in Serena's eyes now. "I'm sorry, B. I'm so sorry."

"You thought I'd betrayed you," Blair muttered. "You wanted revenge. I get it, Serena." Did she get it? Serena sleeping with Carter should have been the worst thing she could possibly do. Blair had spent years secretly terrified that it would happen, because no one could resist Serena. (And now she knew for sure that Serena noticed things about Carter that _she_ didn't). She should be feeling furious right now. Crushed. She waited for it to hit her - because she was sure that it would. She obviously wasn't processing it.

But she waited, and she didn't feel anything.

She didn't feel anything at all.

"Blair-"

"If I thought you'd betrayed me," Blair shook her head, "I probably would have done worse." She definitely would have done worse. She'd have gone after Nate. Somewhere, some part of her wondered how, exactly, that would be worse when Carter had been her boyfriend for five years and Nate was - well, he wasn't even in a relationship with Serena. "I need to go," she stated again.

She picked up her coat and pushed past her best friend, past an equally bemused Nate hovering outside, and disappeared.

Nate blinked at Serena. "Is she still wearing her pyjamas?"

"Yeah."

"Is she going to stop Chuck?"

Serena shook her head helplessly. "I don't know."

And that decided it for Nate. They'd done everything they could - it was clearly time to involve a higher power. "Come on." He pulled on Serena's hand.

"Where are we going?"

His expression was grim. "To Lily."

* * *

The scarf lay curled on Chuck's bed. He'd wanted to leave behind anything that reminded him of her - and he couldn't do it. There were shirts that she'd unbuttoned, ties that she'd pulled, jackets that she'd draped around herself. Cufflinks that she'd given him and cufflinks that she'd reluctantly admired. There was nothing in his suite that didn't remind him of her.

Nothing.

* * *

Blair paused outside the familiar door. She was confused and she needed something to make sense again. Anything. She felt oddly detached as she took a deep breath and prepared herself to enter.

* * *

Chuck went still as he heard the knock at his door. His father had finished with him, and if Nate or Serena had come back yet again -

* * *

He stared at her. "Blair." His eyes moved over her. "What are you doing here?"

* * *

It wasn't Nate or Serena. Or his father. "Sir? Mr Bass ordered a car for seven, but apparently there's been an accident on the main road to the airport. You'll need to take a detour, so can we suggest you order the car for six instead?"

Chuck paused. "That's in twenty minutes."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Blair faced Carter.

His penthouse was in the middle of being packed up - boxes of furniture that she wondered if Victoria had started putting away. "It's really getting repossessed, then?" she asked as she gazed round.

Carter glanced round too. "Yes." But he couldn't give a damn about the penthouse. He watched her, dark hair loose and face for once free of make up. She'd used to get so mad any time he caught her without make up. "What are you doing here, Blair?"

She inhaled slightly. "I want to sell you my shares."

He stared. "What?"

"To Baizen Enterprises. I want to sell them back to you - they're yours anyway."

He let out a short laugh. "You came here to tell me about shares?"

"I...yes." Had she? No, she hadn't. "I know you said you don't care about your father's company, but I want you to have them."

His mouth curved as he studied her. "All right then."

"I'm sorry. About Victoria."

Ok, there was definitely something wrong with her. Carter wondered if maybe lack of sleep had gone to her head. "Blair-"

"I know about you and Serena."

The faint smile slid off his face. Fuck. No. Why was she so calm? Why had she come at all? He'd have expected her to cut him out entirely. Pretend he was dead. Or to explode. He noted that her face did look tear-stained; but her eyes - her eyes were quite blank. So what was going on? "It was a mistake," he began.

"Serena said."

He tried to read her tone. He could always read her. But right now she wasn't reacting in the way that he'd expected. "I just wanted to forget about you," he admitted softly. "But it didn't work. I can never _not_ think about you." He was relieved that she didn't back away when he advanced. "I'm sorry."

She was quiet. "I thought...that I'd care. I thought that it would kill me." She saw the confusion on his face. "But, you know what? I don't." He looked like he didn't understand, but she finally did. Finally. "I don't care."

"What are you talking about?"

Blair moved her head. "I don't love you."

He flinched, involuntary. He hadn't expected it to cut as much as it did. But she was just saying it because she was angry, because he'd betrayed her. He moved forwards and took her wrists in his hands. He wasn't going to lose her. Not again. "Blair. If I could take it back-"

Her eyes dropped down to where he was holding her - and there was a strange expression when she looked back up at him. "I don't love you, Carter."

"And I don't believe you." His fingers were curled around her. "You loved me for five years. That doesn't just go away."

But he didn't understand. "I thought I did," she whispered. "You were always so perfect." Her voice caught as she gazed up at him. "You always swept me off my feet. You always knew exactly what to say." He'd taken her breath away, silenced her with his kisses, thrown her off guard with every comment and every compliment he'd made. She'd been dizzily infatuated with everything he did. _A real heartbreaker_. "But…" She shut her eyes as it overwhelmed her. "But at the end of the day, I was just like all those stupid boys that used to follow you around."

No. Carter didn't let go of her wrists. "You know that's not true." Why couldn't she see that she was nothing like those boys? Why couldn't she see that she was the one person, the one girl –

She stopped him. "I was in love with the idea of you." She'd been in love with the idea that someone like Carter Baizen could ever have loved her. Found her beautiful. Picked _her_. She'd been in love with dances and kisses by the fireside and expensive cologne, snow melting in hair and presents and a sense of danger.

"You told me once that I didn't fool you," he reminded her. "Remember?" She'd been the only girl who'd ever seen through him; the only girl whose love and respect he'd actually had to earn. The only girl whose love and respect he'd wanted to earn.

"Yes," she said, softly. "And you told me everything else was an act, but all I heard was that you were a gentleman." That night at Winter Formal, Sinatra in the background. His arrogant smirk and the heady feeling that it was the start of something, the thrill of _Carter Baizen_ admitting he liked her. _Maybe I am a gentleman, and everything else is just an act._ "I only ever heard what I wanted to hear," she murmured. " I _let_ you fool me."

"It wasn't an act," Carter ground. He was on the verge of pleading, and he didn't even care. Carter Baizen. He couldn't stand it, couldn't stand that she couldn't see. She had to know. His feelings for her had been the only thing that were never an act. Their relationship _hadn't_ been a lie. "I love you." He'd told her so many times without even thinking about it, but it had never not been true. And he needed her to hear it this time. He needed her to know it. He was still holding her as he searched her face. "I know you, and I love you."

She looked at him. And this time there really were tears in her eyes. The tears that he'd wanted for so long because it meant that she felt _anything_ for him. "You left, Carter."

His grip tightened. "And I'm _sorry_-"

"But you're not." She shook her head. "You wanted to get out for so long, and I never even knew. I never understood. I still don't." And that was the real truth, the one that she'd refused to even admit to herself. He'd hated their world, and she'd never even seen it. He hadn't fooled her. She'd fooled herself. "I don't know you, Carter."

He couldn't hear those words. He couldn't. "You _do_ know me." No one else knew him, not really; she was the only person who did. She had to be. He knew _her_. "I told you it was a mistake. Just because I left and I didn't tell you doesn't mean you don't-"

"Do you really want to live on the Upper East Side?" she asked softly. "Do you really want to work in your father's company?" She'd fallen in love with the idea of someone who wanted all the same things that she did. She'd fallen in love with the idea of a perfect life, a life that she'd never noticed he didn't want. A life that she couldn't understand him not wanting. "Carter, I don't know what you want. And I never have." She didn't _know_ him. It had taken him leaving for her to realise, and she still hadn't wanted to face up to it. She hadn't wanted to even think about him because it meant admitting that she'd been wrong. That she hadn't known what she'd thought she did, and she hadn't known him.

His breathing was harsh now, thumbs still pressing into her wrists. _He_ knew what he wanted. "I want you." Why couldn't she see that? His forehead leaned against hers. "That's all I want."

She was so warm against him, and her gaze was so sad – he didn't understand it. "You never told me," she whispered. "You never even thought about asking me to come with you."

He could only stare at her. Because of course it was true, but – "But you wouldn't have wanted to come." The idea was ridiculous. Impossible. Drag Blair Waldorf away from New York? The thought of her taking one step inside any of the seedy bars he'd frequented, the thought of her backpacking or staying in filthy hostels, talking to Chinese prostitutes or gambling with men on the streets over cock fights -

"Exactly." She swallowed. "I wouldn't." She wouldn't have followed him anywhere, and he'd known it. He'd known that she could never understand.

He searched her face as he struggled to make sense of what she was saying. When could Carter Baizen ever not make _sense_ of something? "So you were angry when I left-"

"No." She released a shaky breath. "When you left, I was humiliated. I thought that you'd ruined my future. I was so worried about what people would think, so worried that I'd done something. And I spent so long trying to figure out what-"

"I told you, you _didn't_-"

"Until," she swallowed, "I realised, one day, that I felt nothing." She looked at him now and she felt nothing. Shattered dreams and insecurity and remorse for the life that she thought she'd have. "But when I think about Chuck leaving," her voice nearly broke, "When I think about him leaving I can't _breathe_." Her world had been thrown off tilt when Carter had left. But if Chuck left then it wouldn't be her world at all. "I can't breathe."

Carter swallowed. And he felt numb as he finally let go of her. He'd run out of arguments. He couldn't say anything to that. The problem wasn't, he realised, that she didn't know he loved her.

It was that she didn't care.

"You chose him," he said, hollowly.

She stared at him. And she looked, for a moment, almost as though she were going to reach for him. Touch him. "No." She exhaled and shook her head. He'd left her and she'd never even considered going after him or looking for him. There was only one person that she'd follow anywhere, and it had never been him. "There was never a choice, Carter."

He hadn't broken her heart, he realised dully as she left. And it wasn't a cliché, and it wasn't a pile of crap because his chest _hurt, _and it wasn't the kind of pain he'd spent the past three years avoiding; the pain of all the beatings he was owed from the various people he'd conned and stolen from.

He wasn't bored, and he wasn't tired, and this wasn't something he'd ever encountered in all of his travels.

He hadn't broken her heart.

Apparently, she'd broken his.

* * *

Blair's heart was hammering in her chest as she climbed into the taxi.

"The Palace, please."

It was half past six now - she was sure he wouldn't be leaving for the airport until seven.

She had time. She had to stop him.

* * *

**A/N - Ok, this chapter took me quite a long time to write...so I really hope it came out all right. And that Blair doesn't come across as too heartless? Gulp. Oh and I know there was more angst in this chapter - I'm very sorry, I just can't seem to stop? :) Thank you so much for all of your reviews though! **


	22. Chapter 22

The sun was low in the sky by the time Blair reached the Palace. The traffic had been agonisingly slow, and she was just about ready to destroy the taxi driver, who'd taken the longest routes known to man. She threw the money at him and hurried out of the cab.

She was breathless by the time the elevator stopped at his floor. Breathless and, quite possibly, looking a mess. She'd tried to smooth her hair in the blurred golden mirrors, but she was too agitated. She was wearing a red slip with a blue coat thrown over the top - and they clashed. She wasn't like Serena who could pull off any thrown-together look.

But all she cared about as her shoes clicked along the corridor was getting to him. He couldn't have left yet. She was going to get to his suite -

She knocked but there was no answer.

No answer.

No answer, and she didn't even have his key. She could picture it lying on her dresser and she wanted to scream. She raced back down the corridor, skidding to a halt as she noticed the maid.

"Excuse me." She tried her best polite smile, but maybe the manic look in her eyes undermined it. "I was wondering if I could get a key for suite 1812."

The woman looked at her blankly. "I'm sorry, miss, are you a guest at this hotel?"

"I'm a good friend of the owner's son. Mr. Bass." Damnit, she thought she knew most of the staff at the Palace - they would have let her in for sure. "I just needed to see him, but he's not answering. So if you could just let me borrow a key?"

The maid glanced at her watch. "I was told Mr. Bass left almost an hour ago. I'm supposed to be turning the suite down for new-"

"That's impossible," Blair cut her off as panic started to seize. No, there had to be some kind of mistake. "His flight isn't until nine, so he couldn't possibly have left yet." No, he couldn't. She couldn't have missed him. No.

"Quite a few of our guests are arriving late and leaving early, miss. Apparently it's taking them two hours just to get to the airport."

Blair froze. No, no, no. It was almost seven. Even if she left now -

She was going to be sick. Violently, violently sick. By the time she got to the airport, he'd be on the plane.

The maid was looking at her with concern. "Are you all right?"

"I need a ticket," Blair blurted. "To Sydney." She had no idea where Jack Bass even lived in Sydney.

The woman was looking at her like she was a crazy person now. "Miss-"

"I need a ticket!"

"Ok," the maid attempted to soothe her. "I'll...see what I can do about that. Do you want to wait downstairs in the concierge in the mean time?"

Blair had a sneaking suspicion the woman might just summon security while she waited in the concierge. She needed to calm down. She needed to collect her thoughts. She needed to get to Sydney. "I'm sorry. I realise you can't...get me an aeroplane ticket." Blair smiled again to let her know she was perfectly sane. An idea struck. "Is there any way that we could call the airport from here?"

"To...get a ticket, miss?"

"No," Blair snapped impatiently, "To stop someone from getting on a plane."

There was a brief pause. "Do you need to sit down, miss?"

Blair rolled her eyes. "What I _need_ is for you to stop being so incompetent. Someone is about to get on a plane halfway across the world, and I need to stop him. Do you understand?"

"...Yes, miss."

"If I don't get to him, then I'm going to lose him. Or spend several months looking for him in a country I don't even know." Panic was gripping her again. White hot fear. She would search the whole of Australia until she found him.

"Yes, miss."

Blair wondered suddenly if there might be information about Jack in the suite. Better yet - there was a telephone. A telephone that she could attempt to call the airport from. She smiled. The maid looked perturbed. "Do you think you could let me into his suite anyway?" Blair enquired sweetly.

"I'm not sure-"

"Will a fifty change your mind?"

The maid glanced around the corridor. "Only five minutes though, miss."

"Of course."

Blair plucked the master key from her hand and headed back down towards Chuck's suite.

She slid it into the door. It was dark inside. She remembered the last time she'd come here, when it had been even darker. His burning presence and his lips on hers. She clicked the light on now - and her heart sank. Because for some reason, there had been some tiny part of her that had been wildly hoping he'd be inside. That he was waiting for her in the darkness just like last time. That he was ignoring her or refusing to let her in. Some tiny part of her had hoped that the maid was wrong and Chuck couldn't possibly have left.

The suite was empty.

Entirely empty. She gazed around to see that all his favourite paintings had been taken down. His walls were bare and his closet - her teeth were savage against her lower lip - even barer, doors hanging open and looking all wrong. A gaping hole. His closet was empty. His suite was empty. She turned, because the idea of Chuck not being here was one that she couldn't quite grasp. This was his suite. This was _their_ suite.

She had to focus. She had to call the airport.

But there was a sense of despair underneath it all because she was too late. She'd missed him. Why the hell had she let fear immobilise her for so long? She'd lain in her bedroom all _day_ too scared to even come out. Too scared to face up to losing him. She wasn't going to lose him. She was going to call the airport and -

She paused as she noticed something out of place.

A bag.

There was a bag by the doorway.

Why was there a bag? She moved across to it, heart in her throat. It was fully packed. She unzipped it to find all of his clothes. Why would he have left all his clothes behind? Unless - unless he'd just decided that he didn't want any of them. Her hands fumbled, blindly, over the scarf she'd given him. She ran the silky material through her fingers. He'd left her scarf behind. She _wasn't_ going to let him leave her behind. She wasn't. She moved over to the telephone, reaching for the leather bound directory that lay next to it. Her hands were shaking as she leafed through the pages. Where the hell was the number for the airport?

Her back tensed as she heard the door open behind her. Great. The maid who thought she was insane was now coming to throw her out before she'd even found the damn number.

Her voice came out high and oddly strangled as she tried to turn the pages faster, scanning frantically. Maybe she _was_ insane. "I just need another five minutes-"

"Blair."

The book dropped from her hands.

She wheeled round - he was standing in the doorway. Chuck was standing in the doorway. He wasn't - he hadn't -

"You're here," she whimpered.

"Your penthouse was empty." He sounded rigid. "Dorota said that you'd gone to see Carter."

Blair moved closer to him, drinking him in, heart pounding. He was here. He was here, and she was going to make damn sure that she didn't lose him. "I did."

She could see the tension in every inch of his body. "So," he asked stiffly, "What are you doing here, then?"

"You were right." She released a breath she hadn't even realised she was holding. "I didn't want to hear those words because of Carter." She swallowed. "I couldn't tell you I loved you because I was scared. Because I thought 'I love you' wasn't enough to make Carter stay."

Chuck's jaw tightened as he gazed at her, eyes burning. "I'm not Carter." It was still impossibly tight.

"I know." Blair shook her head to stop him. "But…it's _not_ enough." It wasn't enough to sit back and say_ I love you_. "If you love someone," she pressed, "Then you don't let them leave. Then you go after them." Chuck found his own voice suddenly stuck, his breathing rough as as Blair closed the space between them. "I didn't fight for Carter." She slid her hands over his cheeks, framing his face. Holding him in place. "I'm fighting for you. I love you. And if I can't make you stay, then I'm going with you."

He closed his eyes. Her name was trapped low, somewhere in his chest. "Blair-"

"I love you. I want _you._" The tips of her fingers brushed his hairline, tracing the slant of his cheek. Fierce. "I'm not letting you run away." His hands curled around her wrists. His eyes were locked on hers and she saw him open his mouth, draw in a deep breath. The telephone rang. She didn't let him go, even as the shrill noise continued to fill the room. She refused to let him go. "Chuck."

He pulled her hands, slowly, away from his face. And then they were trapped between their bodies as he regarded her. "It's probably Bart," he murmured at last. "Calling to ask why the hell I cancelled my car."

Blair stared back. "To…the airport?"

"Yeah," he said, very quietly.

He held her arms and still she stared. "But-"

"I can't fight for you if I'm on the other side of the world."

Her lower lip trembled as it finally sunk in.

And she couldn't understand the tears that burned at corners of her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him, tight, and he kissed her. She wasn't going to lose him. She hadn't lost him. Chuck's mouth covered hers, inhaling her, drinking her in. There was a lump in his throat. And he finally felt like he could breathe as he murmured it against her lips, her hair, the crook of her neck.

"I love you too."

* * *

"You have to believe us, mom."

Lily glanced at Nate and Serena over her cup of camomille tea. She pressed two fingers against her temple as though trying to make sense of what they were telling her. "I'm not saying I don't believe you. I'm just trying to...work out what to do."

"We need to stop Bart from sending Chuck away!"

"Of course," Lily sighed. She pursed her lips. "All right. I'm going to go the Palace now."

Serena and Nate exchanged hopeful glances. "You're going to stop him?"

"I'm going to try," Lily stressed. "And if that doesn't work, then...obviously, we need to get Charles back from Australia." She rose to her feet and set the teacup down. "Larissa - call a car."

* * *

They'd fallen to the sofa now, and Chuck's hands had slid around Blair waist while her own continued to explore the planes of his face. She smiled up at him, at his dark eyes. "You may have to fire one of your maids," she murmured. "I think she thinks I'm crazy."

"She does," Chuck confirmed drily. "She was waiting outside. She offered to call security for me."

Blair shifted closer into his lap and kissed him again. "I don't ever want to lose you." She breathed it into his skin as her fingers curled around the lapel of his jacket, nuzzling his neck.

He paused, though, holding her off. "Blair. I need to tell you something." There was a pit in his stomach. He had to tell her about Waldorf Designs. And his grip tightened round her because he didn't want to. Didn't want to tell her he'd placed her mother's company in jeopardy just because he didn't ever want to lose her either. "It's about Bart-"

The door of his suite banged open.

"Well. What a surprise."

Bart was standing on the threshold, icy, as he took in the two of them on the sofa.

Chuck tried to pull Blair off him, to thrust her behind him - but her arms curled around his neck. There was no way in hell that she was going to let Bart come between them again. She glared at the man.

Chuck got to his feet and Blair's fingers wrapped around his. "Father."

"Aren't you supposed to be on a plane, Chuck?"

"I'm not going." Chuck's expression was dangerous.

Bart just snorted. "Is that what you and your girlfriend have decided? I'm impressed." He glanced at Blair. "So you picked him over your legacy? Eleanor will be disappointed."

Chuck had stiffened - but Blair's nails dug almost painfully into his hand. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

Bart raised an eyebrow, at that. "You didn't even tell her, Chuck?" There was mild amusement on his face as he looked at his son. "How _noble_."

Blair's gaze shifted to Chuck, to his still taut jaw. "Blair," he muttered - and she saw it in his eyes.

"Let me guess." Blair stopped him, turning a brittle smile back to Bart. "You threatened to go after Waldorf Designs just like you went after Givenchy."

The man nodded at Chuck. "Well, at least you didn't pick a bimbo," he remarked.

"And you picked the wrong family to sabotage," Blair cut in. Her eyes had narrowed. "If you seriously think that my mother-"

"Your mother?" Bart sighed. "Please. Don't make this personal. The investors at Waldorf Designs certainly won't, when Bass Industries buy them out." His eyes flickered to his son. "Unless, of course, Chuck wants to catch the eleven o'clock flight. There's still time."

"Chuck's not going anywhere," Blair hissed back.

Bart raised his gaze heavenwards. "Does your girlfriend answer all your questions for you, Chuck?"

"Get out."

Bart looked at him again. "Get out? Have you forgotten whose hotel this is?"

"You're not going to go after Waldorf Designs."

"Or...what?" Bart asked sardonically. He was tired of his son. "If you insist on disobeying me, Chuck, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Now. I'm sure Blair will give you a place to stay for the night," he condescended.

"Bart."

They all stopped.

Lily had walked into the suite, perfect brow arched. She regarded Chuck and Blair and then settled on Bart.

"What on earth are you doing?"

Bart cleared his throat. "Lily." His head jerked. "What are you doing h-"

"You didn't answer my question," Lily frowned. "What are _you_ doing, Bart? To your own son?"

"I wasn't aware that his discipline was up to you," Bart stated in reply. "Have I missed something?"

Lily had her arms folded now. "Nathaniel and Serena inform me that you've disinherited him."

"He disobeyed me." Bart spared Chuck a glance. "I did warn him this would happen. And since you're here. Chuck. Do you want to tell Lily about your friend from Brooklyn?" The smile that he directed at Lily was thin. Brusque. "I'd think twice before defending him."

"If you're referring to the girl who interrupted our engagement party, Bart, I already know." Lily released a wearied sigh. Nate and Serena had told her everything. "And if you're really disinheriting Charles, then I don't believe you're in charge of his discipline any more." Her lips were still pursed. "He'll be living with me from now on." Chuck opened his mouth but Lily wasn't finished. "I think we've all had enough of you for one night. Charles," she addressed him, turning away from Bart. "Blair. Let's go."

"You can't be serious." It was clear that the man found the entire situation ridiculous.

"I'm perfectly serious, Bart."

"You're going to regret this."

And at that, Lily turned back to him. "You know, I really wanted to believe that you'd changed." She shook her head. "But you're just as arrogant and heartless as you were ten years ago."

Bart's face was expressionless - though his lip curled. "And you're just as fickle. Why are you taking my son on as a charity case, when you know as well as I do that you'll be bored of him within the year?" He gestured at Chuck. "I'd take the flight to Australia, if I were you. Jack's probably more reliable."

Blair's hand was still gripped in Chuck's.

Lily scoffed. "Do you know why I left you ten years ago, Bart? Because I found out about the building that you had burnt down for insurance. And I decided that I didn't want someone who was so careless with human life around my children. I tried to convince myself that it was a mistake, but it's clear that I can't do that any more."

Bart had gone very still. "What are you talking about?" Chuck and Blair were both staring at him now, staring at Lily.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Are you threatening me?" Bart snarled eventually.

"Don't be melodramatic." Lily was cordial as ever. "I have a headache." She glanced at Chuck and Blair again. "So could you please get in the car downstairs? Nathaniel and Serena are waiting for you."

"Lily-"

"Charles won't be staying with you any more," she informed Bart. "But I believe he's entitled to his trust fund."

Blair was already dragging Chuck out of there. It was quite clear that Lily had this handled - she had to admit that she was impressed. She could also see the conflicting emotions on Chuck's face. He didn't - couldn't - believe that Lily was sticking up for him. Defending him. Offering to look after him. So, Blair decided, it was better to get him into the car before he could start doubting it any more.

Lily closed the door behind them.

The elevator ride down to the lobby was silent for all of two seconds. Blair hadn't let go of Chuck's hand. "How did you know?" he asked numbly. "About the fire?" Even he hadn't known. He'd had no idea. And he couldn't help but think that if he'd had that knowledge all along -

There was a pause. "Well." Lily smoothed down her coat. "Actually, I...had no idea. The building burning down was in the paper at the time."

Chuck and Blair both blinked at her. "You were bluffing?" Blair asked in disbelief.

"Well," the woman's brow knitted, "It worked, didn't it? And at least none of us have to put up with him any more."

Blair was even more impressed.

"Lily," Chuck started. He was obviously still reeling, and Blair held on that bit tighter.

"I'll have Larissa prepare a room for you."

He seemed to be finding it hard to swallow. "I can't-"

"You can," Lily replied sternly, "And you will. Eric will be thrilled." She smiled, wry. "Consider it a thank you. For putting so much effort into breaking up two engagements."

"He says you're welcome," Blair intercut before Chuck could.

The elevator hit the ground floor and Lily headed out first.

Chuck, however, caught Blair's wrist to pull her back. "You are aware," he questioned drolly as his eyes travelled over her, "That I'm capable of speaking for myself?"

"I'm aware," she replied. "But you were about to answer the wrong thing." She leaned up to kiss him. "And we need all the help we can get." Her fingers brushed his collar; and her smile was teasing, but there was something darker in her eyes. "I'm not risking you going to Australia again." It didn't quite come out the joke she'd intended it to be.

He tugged her closer. "I'm not going anywhere." It was quiet against her ear. Her eyes closed for the briefest moment as his lips found her jaw, a silent promise. She held onto him longer than might have been necessary while he breathed out into the familiar scent of her hair.

"Good," she managed. (She didn't add that if he did go anywhere, she was going with him anyway).

* * *

**A/N - I'm sorry this was a shorter chapter...I debated playing out Blair searching for Chuck for longer, but it was getting pretty ridiculous. And I promise, there is only CB goodness to come from now :) Thank you for all of your reviews! **


	23. Chapter 23

Nate and Serena jumped on them the second they got in the car. "You're not going to Australia?"

Chuck glanced at Blair. "No."

"And Bart-"

"Charles is going to live with us," Lily announced from her seat.

Serena paused, eyes widening. "Uh, _live_ with us?"

"Is there a problem?"

Serena's eyes slid to Nate. And then Blair. Lily had said enough times that she never should have broken up with Chuck, though Serena had always suspected that it had less to do with her own romantic interests and more to do with Lily wanting him as a son in-law. "Just...as long as you don't think this means we're getting back togeth-"

"She doesn't," Blair was quick to cut her off. Her hand had slid, possessive, over Chuck's. "I think Lily meant more as a brother."

Chuck smirked as her fingers pressed into him.

Serena relaxed. "Oh. Well...then, great, I guess?" She wasn't quite as on board with the idea of Chuck Bass being her brother. But she _was_ relieved that he was staying. And, more to the point, that Blair was so obviously relieved too. She gave her best friend a slight smile. "And you two are...?"

"Exhausted." Blair's tone was pointed. Chuck was still unnerved about the Lily thing, and she wasn't about to add an in-depth dissection of their relationship - in front of him - to that. She sensed him look down at her. "So let's go."

The car pulled away and her hand remained firmly wrapped around his. Serena saw and raised an eyebrow at Nate - he followed her gaze and grinned back. Chuck and Blair ignored them. Chuck's thumb traced the back of her hand in silence.

* * *

Lily had called Larissa back to prepare dinner for six people, despite the fact that it was by now almost nine o'clock – Chuck looked like he'd been living on a diet of scotch, and Blair on stress alone for the past few weeks. Blair, meanwhile, had convinced Serena to let her use her bathroom before dinner since she was still in her pyjamas. Nate and Serena were currently regaling Eric with their tale while Lily finished her (admittedly now spiked) tea; Chuck had announced that he should freshen up too and then disappeared. (Not, Nate noticed, in the direction of the en suite Lily had showed him).

Blair was just about to unfasten her coat and turn on the shower when the bathroom door handle twisted and Chuck came in.

Their eyes met.

"You didn't lock the door?"

She tilted her head, though her breathing shook as he advanced. He caught her fingers on the buttons of her coat, turning her into him, and slowly undid them. One by one. She gazed up into his black eyes. The coat slid to the floor, falling from her bare shoulders. His hands were hot against her skin but a faint shiver passed up her spine. It had been too long since she'd even touched him. And this time –

She lifted her arms up. His mouth curved as he tugged the bottom of her slip and pulled it, still slowly, over her head.

Those black eyes moved over her naked body. Her pale skin and the familiar swell of her breasts, tiny waist and the freckle on her thigh. She bit her lip because it felt like forever since she'd been naked in front of him at all. Since his gaze had travelled over her like that. A voice somewhere reminded her it had, in fact, only been a few weeks – but it had been weeks where she hadn't even seen him, much less spoken to him. Felt him. He wasn't going anywhere. He was here. Right in front of her.

And something inside him constricted when he watched her tuck a curl behind her ear, take a step closer.

Her slender fingers loosened his tie and she pressed against him, feeling his heat on her bare skin through his shirt. She savoured even the dark sweep of his hair as his hands inched around her waist, tracing her bare hip, and his shirt buttons were pulled apart. Her fingernails scraped the warm skin under his collar, eyes fluttering closed, lips finally meeting his.

He moved his head to deepen the kiss.

And while his mouth bruised hers, she pushed the rest of his clothes off and her hands knotted in his hair. She was barely aware as he picked her up, her legs tightening instinctively around his torso, and she didn't realise they were in the shower until he turned the faucet to release a gush of hot water over her head. She cried out into him, but his grip held her in place, the scalding stream sliding over their bodies as she eagerly met his mouth for more and her back slipped against the tiled wall.

Her hair had darkened in the water, but her eyes were even darker with want and need because she'd _missed_ him.

The last time they'd had sex – in the shadow of his suite – had been hard and rough and desperate; and she clung to him now in relief as his hand moved, slow, over her jaw. He drank her in and she smiled.

"I love you."

Her arms were wrapped around his neck and his body was pinning her in place against the wall as rivulets cascaded down both of them.

"Are you sure," she teased – but it was breathless because she could feel his hardness pressed against her – "You're not just saying that because we're about to-"

He cut her off with a kiss. "I meant it then too."

Her smile widened. He caught her thighs, lifting her so that he could enter her. Her moan of pleasure echoed off the tiles and she was lost.

* * *

"Blair's taking a long time in the shower," Lily remarked.

Nate looked at Serena.

"Yeah," the blonde girl ventured, "You know, she was really depressed when she thought Chuck was leaving…she probably hasn't washed for days." Blair, she decided, did not get to lecture her about Nate ever again. Although she guessed things had got pretty desperate for a while there, so maybe her best friend was entitled to…ew. Chuck. No.

"Larissa should be finished soon," Lily went on with a vague glance at the kitchen. Although she _was _enjoying her drink. "Serena, could you go and tell Charles?"

Serena twined her arm around Nate's. "Help me?" She was already hauling him to his feet anyway. No way was she doing it by herself. When they turned the corner, however, it was to find Blair emerging from the bathroom dressed in a large white towel. Alone.

Nate and Serena blinked. "Hey, B. Where's…Chuck?"

Blair simply arched her brow at them. "How should I know?"

"He said he needed to freshen up."

"So obviously he's in his own bathroom?" Blair made a noise of faux disbelief. "Honestly."

(Nate was _sure_ Chuck hadn't been headed for his own bathroom). "Ok," he muttered. "I'll go get him."

Blair turned to Serena with a smile. "Could I borrow some clothes, S?"

"Yeah," Serena still wasn't entirely convinced, but she led the way to her room anyway. "Sure."

And once the blonde was ahead, Blair glanced back to the bathroom. Chuck prowled out from where he'd been waiting behind the door, hair still damp and towel slung around his hips. There was a moment of silence in the corridor as they exchanged a smirk. Then he went to find Nate and Blair headed after Serena.

* * *

They were all seated at the table by the time the two girls emerged from Serena's bedroom. And Blair, Chuck noticed, had been dressed full Serena-style in knee socks and a loose cream dress with a Peter Pan collar. Serena had told her in the bedroom that she looked cute – except, Blair thought darkly, she didn't have miles of legs like Serena did to pull it off. Chuck watched with interest. He'd always thought headbands and tight skirts and shift dresses turned him on, but obviously it was anything Blair wore. She noticed his eyes trailing her figure and sent him a quick glare – he was not allowed to laugh at her. His lips had quirked, though, in something that wasn't laughter.

She slipped down next to him at the table and he was glad.

"So," Lily smiled at Chuck as she inclined her glass of wine. "What are we drinking to?"

"No more Bart?" Serena suggested hopefully.

Her mother pulled a face of agreement, but toasting to as much would still have been crass. "How about to new beginnings?"

Eric grinned in Chuck's direction. "To new beginnings."

The warmth from Lily and Eric, and even Serena as she rolled her eyes, made Chuck force down his wine. He couldn't quite get to grips with it. He'd been so sure for so long that he'd never get to be with the van der Woodsens again. And the idea that they still wanted him, even now -

Blair's fingers brushed his leg, briefly, arm against his. Too much love, she knew, and Chuck would spook. Refuse to believe any of it. Lily could insist that she wanted Chuck to be her family, wanted her with him, every day; and still all he'd hear were Bart's words. He'd been willing and perfectly comfortable to be a part of the van der Woodsen family - a great son and an even better brother - when he'd been engaged to Serena and there had been some kind of justification. A reason that Lily might have wanted him around. But Blair knew that this new idea was going to take him some getting used to.

He craved love just as much as she did. She wasn't going to let him spook.

She rubbed her leg against his, and his hand automatically covered her thigh under the table. And then his fingers were grazing the skin between the hem of her dress and the top of the sock. Knee socks, he decided as he stroked her, he could get used to. Serena noticed their activity and elbowed Blair, hard. Blair nearly spilt her asparagus soup all down her. She sent a glower at her best friend - it was her dress that she'd be ruining.

Chuck cocked a brow at the blonde too. He contented himself with curling an arm around Blair's waist instead, protecting her from any more of Serena's attempts at violence.

Serena pursed her lips and returned to her own soup.

* * *

"Rummy," Blair declared triumphantly as she laid down her hand.

The five of them were gathered in the van der Woodsen living room, dinner cleared away and cards strewn over the coffee table. Lily was finishing some paperwork with the rest of the bottle of wine.

Chuck glanced over Blair's cards. "Amazing," he purred.

Blair was happily curled into his side on the sofa, and she had to lean across him every time she played. Serena had noticed. She'd also noticed the fact that Chuck's hand was now inching over the small of Blair's back.

"You guys are cheating."

"We're winning," Blair corrected.

"Actually," Chuck mused - his hand hadn't moved from Blair - "We won."

Serena frowned and Eric and Nate glanced at her oddly, because she never usually cared about card games. Only she wasn't looking at the cards now. "Chuck, aren't you tired?"

His dark eyes narrowed at her. What was her problem? "Not really." He was still holding Blair.

"Actually, it is getting late," Lily spoke from the table. She didn't seem to have picked up on any tension. "Maybe you should all think about getting to bed."

Serena stood up. "B. I'll walk you to the door."

Nate looked in confusion between the two girls - Blair, however, stayed where she was. "I guess I should go." She wasn't moving. Innocent. "You know, it's so quiet at home now. No one but me."

"And Dorota?" Serena had her hand on her hip.

"I gave her a holiday."

Serena didn't look like she believed that for a second, but Chuck spoke before she could. "Oh no," he deadpanned, fingers splayed on her back as he gazed down at her. "You can't go home to an empty penthouse."

Blair's expression was sad in agreement. Serena raised her eyes heavenwards.

Lily peered up from her papers at the silence. "I'm sure Blair could stay here for tonight. It's been a while since you two have had a sleepover, Serena - you used to have them all the time."

"We did," Blair's eyes had brightened. "And they were so much fun!"

Serena crossed her arms. "Well, then maybe Nate should stay too." Nate's head swivelled, defensive - he didn't want to be dragged into whatever this was. He still didn't know what this was.

Lily was busy writing something else. "I don't think that would be appropriate," she reminded her daughter. Much as she did love Nate. "You know the rules."

Serena's mouth gaped open at the injustice of it all. "But Chuck's allowed to have girls round?"

There was a slight furrow in Lily's brow, though her attention was more on the papers in front of her. "Blair's your friend, darling."

"So's Nate."

Her mother finally set her glass down in exasperation. "You told me just yesterday that Nate was more than a friend."

And Serena had no defence to that. (Although Nate grinned). "Fine," she grumbled.

Nate had already caught her hand anyway. "You can walk me to the door," he offered; and once they reached the elevator and were out of earshot he glanced at her again. "What's going on?"

Chuck and Blair were still on the sofa - looking quite smug, Serena was sure - and even though they were apparently engaged in conversation with Eric, she knew for a fact that Chuck _still_ had his hand on Blair's back. "My best friend is a hypocrite," Serena sighed. "After everything she said to us, her and Chuck can't keep their hands off each other for five minutes."

Nate followed her gaze. "I don't think Chuck or Blair have ever known how to take things slow."

But Serena still looked worried. "I'm gonna make sure they do tonight." Or at least that Blair did.

Nate chuckled and kissed her. "Good luck with that."

Serena hit him playfully - "Thanks for your support."

"Hey," he shrugged, "I'm not allowed to stay. Apparently I'm more than a friend."

She smiled, reluctant, as she kissed him back. "You're a lot more," her arms twined around his neck. "I'll see you tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night." Their noses brushed.

And once he was gone, Serena rounded back on the living room. It looked like she'd have to handle this for herself. "B," she said cheerfully, dropping down onto the sofa to disrupt whatever Blair and Chuck had going on. "You're right. It's been too long since we've had a sleepover." She caught the brunette's hands. "Tonight's going to be so much fun!" She pulled the smaller girl up and away from Chuck, gushing about hot chocolate and pillow fights and hair braiding.

Blair hesitated, looking back at Chuck - he did not look impressed at having her yanked away - but Serena was already hauling her off.

"Sorry, Chuck. Girls only. You should have your own sleepover with Eric!"

Eric's gaze slid to Chuck, bemused. Chuck angled his head. "But there won't be girls in pyjamas." He watched Blair as he said it; her smirk was imperceptible.

"Sorry!"

Chuck's eyes remained slanted on Blair's retreating form as Serena pushed her into her bedroom.

"Another game?" Eric asked wryly.

Chuck's mouth twitched at him.

* * *

"I didn't think you were serious about the hair braiding." Blair's teeth were gritted as she sat on Serena's mattress, the blonde tugging and twisting her dark tresses.

"Come on, B. We used to do this all the time." Serena noticed Blair's visible flinch as she pulled a little too hard. Oops.

"When were six."

"I just wanted to spend time with my best friend," Serena pleaded, laying on the guilt. She knew it would work - and sure enough, Blair stopped complaining. "I really missed this."

Blair was just about to answer that she had too, when she caught sight of her reflection. "_Serena_!" Two large mutant braids were pulling all the skin taut on her forehead.

"What?"

"This is why I told you you were never allowed to touch my hair again!" Blair scooted away from the blonde and started frantically tugging them out. They were pulled too tightly. For someone with such perfect hair, Serena never had grasped how to plait anyone else's. "What have you _done_?"

Serena's own forehead crinkled. "It's not that bad."

"I look like something out of Star Trek!" And that was the most despicable comparison she could come up with. "Get it out!"

Serena rolled her eyes. "It's not like you're going anywhere, B."

Blair turned on her very slowly. Enough was enough. "Ok. What is wrong with you?"

For a moment, Serena looked like she was going to deny it - but she never had been able to lie to Blair. And if anything, she needed to get it off her chest. "What are you doing with Chuck?" she asked at last.

"What?"

"Blair," Serena sighed. "I know you're happy he's not leaving. I know how scared you were. But...I thought you'd finally told him how you felt."

Blair stared at her. "I _did._"

"Then why are you back to sneaking around?"

"We're not sneaking-"

"In the shower?" Serena cut her off. "At dinner? All throughout that game? In the car when I asked you, you couldn't even answer my question. You've just jumped straight back into sleeping with him - I'm worried about you. I'm glad you told him how you felt, but how is this any different to how it was before?"

"Why does it have to change?" Blair demanded hotly. "Serena. Chuck knows that I love him, and I know that he loves me. We don't need anything else."

"It's not a relationship if you won't tell anyone about it." Serena was stubborn.

"What do you want?" Blair snapped. "A coming out party to let the whole of the Upper East Side know we're a couple?" Chuck knew and Blair knew - who else needed to?

Serena shook her head. "In the car, you couldn't change the subject fast enough when I talked about the two of you. If you're so secure about this, B, then why are you scared to talk about it?"

For a moment, Blair couldn't find the words. Serena obviously didn't _get_ it. "This morning, Chuck was banished _alone_ to the other side of the world. Now he's not only staying, but he has a home and a family-"

"And you."

"And me," Blair murmured. Always her. "Don't you think that's kind of a lot to take in? He's freaking out, S. Now is not the time to start talking about our wedding!"

Serena regarded her. "He's not the only one freaking out though," she asked quietly, "Is he?"

The brunette swallowed. "I don't-"

"You're still scared you're going to lose him."

"I'm not," Blair insisted. "I just...I got too close." Too close to losing him. And yes, that had freaked her out. She shook her head. It had freaked her out, but he wasn't going anywhere. "It's been a long day. And he needs me."

Serena worried her lip. "You can't solve all your problems with sex."

"Says who?"

For a moment, Serena looked like she might laugh. But her eyes were still anxious. "I'm not saying you have to start planning your wedding, B. But maybe go on a date?"

"A date?" Blair looked at her like the very idea was beneath them.

"You know," Serena's eyebrows had disappeared again, "Like you said I had to go on with Nate? Before I even kissed him?" Which she hadn't technically done - but they were still taking it a hell of a lot slower than Chuck and Blair. "I followed your advice, and we've got a date tomorrow. It's not hard."

"Your situation is completely different," Blair said impatiently. "Chuck and I have been together for two years."

"You've been sleeping together for two years." Blair's expression was almost stricken at the low blow - Serena caught her, quickly. "I know it's more than that. I know he loves you. All I'm saying is, it's not like you've ever had a normal relationship with him."

Blair scowled. "What does that even mean?"

"Look," Serena exhaled. "All I'm saying is...maybe take the time to find out. Going slow can be fun. I know you just got him back, but there's no pressure now. You don't have to worry about Bart or anyone else finding out. So maybe jumping Chuck in showers," she winced at the visual, "Isn't your only option."

"He jumped me," Blair griped back.

"Blair-"

"All right. Fine." She dropped onto Serena's bed in submission. "I'll...think about maybe _going slow_." Ugh. She'd much rather be jumping Chuck in showers. But she could tell that there was only concern and love coming from her best friend; and the truth was that she'd missed even having Serena to talk about these things to. "Now," she straightened, resigned. "Can you please get this mess out of my hair?"

* * *

It was some time past two, and Serena's muffled breathing filled the room. Blair couldn't take it any more. She'd tried to be good. She really had. But he was lying in the room just down the hallway - and he was alone. Silently, she eased out of the bed she'd been sharing with her best friend and tiptoed to the door. Serena stirred and she froze; but thankfully, the blonde didn't wake up. Blair crept out of the room.

Chuck's door was shut. She knocked as quietly as she could. And then she couldn't quite stop herself from opening it anyway, sliding into his bedroom. "Chuck?" she whispered.

He was awake. She could feel it.

There was a movement against the sheets.

She stole across the room until she was right by the bed. He'd pulled the coverlet open for her - she climbed onto the mattress and reached for him. His hands found her in the darkness, and he was warm and smelt of Chuck. "Blair." He breathed her name against her skin.

She wriggled against his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his pyjamas as her body slid down next to his. She buried into him, entangled in his arms. Even in the dark he would have found her lips without hesitation, but he kissed her forehead instead, and his mouth travelled over her hair until she was as close as she could get. He held her tight.

"Please tell me there were pyjamas and pillow fights." His voice was low and sleepy, caressing her ear. "Or better yet - no pyjamas at all."

"There were no pillow fights." She turned into him. "But there was hair braiding." He felt her grimace at the memory, and his fingers explored the kinks in her locks.

"Serena never did learn."

He and Nate had invaded one of the girls' sleepovers once, but they'd been rewarded with a hysterical Blair after Serena had attempted corn rows in her hair - just like she'd seen in that movie about the African princess. Blair had got into so much trouble with Eleanor over it that she'd refused to speak to Serena for a week. Chuck had been the one to help her thwart Eleanor's plan of marching her down to the hairdressers and having it all cut off as a punishment.

"No." She remembered it too. She wove her arms around him now, eyes closing. "Are you ok?" She hadn't been exaggerating to Serena, either, because it had felt like the longest day ever.

He nuzzled her as his own eyes shut too. "Mm." He was now.

She snuggled under his chin and decided she didn't care what Serena said - she didn't want any of this to change. Not ever. She wouldn't trade the knowledge that she had him, or the heat of his body or his voice in hear ear for a thousand of the most perfect dates. And Blair's idea of a perfect date was far more perfect than Serena's was.

Maybe sex wasn't the solution to everything. Maybe they did need to learn how to be in a normal relationship, whatever that was. But her last thought before she feel asleep was that Serena was wrong about one thing, because the answer was _not_ in staying away from each other.

* * *

**A/N - Sorry for the slight gap in updates - I hope Serena wasn't too irritating this chapter, I promise she has only Blair's interests at heart! Oh and don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Carter...Thank you so so much for all of your reviews :) **


	24. Chapter 24

"Where are you going?" He may have been half asleep, but he still caught her arm to tug her back down with him. Her body was deliciously warm against his and he didn't want her to leave at all. He ignored the morning sunlight that filtered through his window.

"I'm meant to be sleeping in Serena's room," she whispered back, "Remember?" She went to pull away again, but he'd latched onto her waist. She ended up on top of his chest. "Chuck," she protested. He held her, squirming, to him; and his lips drowsily trailed a path up the curve of her neck to her mouth.

"Don't go."

She started to protest about proving something to Serena as he kissed her.

Only he didn't really want to hear about Serena while he pulled at Blair's waist, turning so that he'd trapped her body under his on the mattress. He carried on kissing her, lazily, and his hand of its own accord wandered under her dress. She was still wearing the socks. He was awake now as he slid one down the hot skin of her thigh and she gasped his name.

"Chuck-"

She pushed against him and stopped his hand in its path.

"No. No sex."

His eyes darkened in confusion. "What?"

She was sitting up on the bed now, hair mussed. "We're taking things slowly."

"I can go slowly," he growled as his fingers trailed her bare arm. He was seconds from curling around her wrist and pulling her back down – but she wriggled off the mattress before he could.

"I need to go back to Serena's room." She skipped out before Chuck could stop her. Well, at least now she could claim the moral high ground above Serena for _something_.

Chuck scowled, bewildered and just a little bereft.

* * *

"Chuck."

He was in the kitchen helping himself to orange juice – Lily had told him to - when Serena strode in. Blair wasn't with her. "Where's the best friend you're so determined to keep away from me?" he drawled.

The blonde simply folded her arms. "She's showering. Alone. And apparently not determined enough – I know she slept in your room last night." She was actually quite glad that she'd managed to catch Chuck by himself; she thought she'd have to leave this part of her pep talk up to Nate.

Chuck's gaze slanted a little. "And?"

"Look," Serena sighed.

"If it's not ok with Lily," he stopped her, "Then it won't happen again." Content though he was to violate rules in every other circumstance, the last thing he wanted to do was upset Lily. Or give her any reason to -

Serena rolled her eyes. "My mom knows what you're like, Chuck, and I'm pretty sure you can't do anything wrong in her eyes anyway." And as if Lily would ever have noticed. "This is about Blair."

He regarded her for a moment. "What exactly did you say to her?"

"The same thing I'm gonna say to you. Slow down."

Chuck angled his brow. What the hell was this obsession with slow? "So she's withholding sex because you told her to." He gave Serena a look. "Thanks."

Oh, really? Serena smiled in amusement. "I thought sisters were meant to interfere," she commented - she hadn't expected her talk with Blair to actually work. But then again, the sex wasn't really the point. "Chuck, you have all the time now to do things right. Don't you think she deserves more than sneaking out of your room at six in the morning? I mean, don't you both deserve more?"

"She wouldn't have to sneak if you hadn't forbidden her from seeing me."

"I didn't _forbid_ her," Serena raised her eyes again. She'd never be able to forbid Blair from doing anything. She wouldn't even try to. "I get it, Chuck. Sneaking around is fun. But it's not real."

Chuck studied her in silence. Was she seriously trying to tell him that what he had with Blair wasn't real? "No offence, van der Woodsen, but since when did you become the expert on _real_ relationships?" He didn't mean it cruelly.

She shook her head. "Since I snuck around with Tripp for two years and convinced myself that was real too."

Chuck had to give her that, but - "We're not you and Tripp."

"I know." Serena was patient. "But these last few weeks have been crazy for both of you, don't you want some stability?" And, before he could answer, "She's worried about you."

Chuck was quiet. He knew Blair was worried about him; he'd felt it last night, felt it in the way her body had pressed against his. "I'm aware. But you telling her she's dealing with it the wrong way," - telling them they were both dealing with it the wrong way - "Is not going to make her any less worried."

"That's not what I said," Serena insisted. "What Blair does to make you feel better is none of my business." Chuck cocked his head at that, tempted to reply that Blair was the only person who knew _exactly_ how to make him feel better. Serena had to pull a wry face back. Because, ok, that had come out wrong. "Can you just try to tone down the crazy?" she sighed. "Do things like go to the movies or restaurants instead of all the sex and scheming?"

"Like you and Archibald are doing tonight?" He already knew how happy Nate was at the prospect of their little date.

Serena's arms were still crossed. "You can mock us all you like, but-"

"We've been to restaurants," Chuck interrupted. "And movies." He'd taken Blair to a private screening of Dr. Zhivago and they'd role-played Yuri and Lara afterwards. Star-crossed Russian lovers meant Blair in a fur hat and not much else.

"As a couple? As her boyfriend?"

"I really don't see," Chuck responded drily, "What the problem with sex and scheming is."

"Chuck-"

"Serena. I'll do whatever it takes to make her happy." His voice was low. "And if that means taking it slowly, then fine. But only if that's what Blair wants."

Serena paused in surprise. Ok, that was an answer she could be satisfied with. In fact, that was an answer that was downright sweet coming from Chuck. She gazed at him and she smiled again despite herself. "You really love her."

He just gave her a look. "Yes."

"I'm kind of impressed," she admitted. She was still grinning as she plucked the glass of orange juice out of his hands. "Oh, and you're not allowed to freak out about living here any more. Because if you want to leave, I think you might break mom's heart. Not to mention Eric's." He stared. "You're...stuck with us now, Chuck." She cocked her head right back, sipping the juice, and drifted out.

* * *

Lily had overcompensated with far too much food for breakfast. Pastries and fresh fruit were piled high on the lacquered table, surrounded by even more orange juice.

Blair was sitting in between Chuck and Serena.

And for some reason, she was starting to feel very conscious of everything she did. Chuck's eyes burned into her on one side. She knew he wouldn't be happy with the way she'd abandoned him in bed, and she could feel his gaze track her movements. Following the curve of her neck where she'd swept her hair up. Following the path of the croissant to her mouth. But she knew damn well that Serena was also watching her - and Blair needed to prove to her that she and Chuck knew exactly how to be in a relationship and exactly how to survive without sex.

Last night in his bed had been so easy in comparison. Last night when it had just been her and Chuck, her and her need for Chuck and the simple instinct to comfort him. To be there for him. Without everyone watching. It was ridiculous - Blair knew perfectly well how to be a good girlfriend and she was great at being in a relationship. Chuck should have been the one who was finding it hard, but Chuck seemed quite as ease as he watched her. She tried to work out if he was putting on a front as she swallowed another piece of croissant.

The problem was that this wasn't just a relationship and she wasn't just a girlfriend because it was_ Chuck_. How the hell did Serena expect her to do stupid things like go on dates with _Chuck_? She'd told him no sex primarily to prove a point to Serena, but also because it gave her some semblance of control. Only now she was on edge and she knew the only thing that would relax her was Chuck's lips on hers.

Now there were expectations and Blair usually dealt so well with those, but a vague sense of panic was starting to grip her because she realised she never usually thought about expectations with Chuck and she didn't know how. What if being in a relationship and taking things slow bored him? He wasn't like that. They weren't like that. What if -

"So what are your plans for today?" Lily addressed the object of Blair's increasingly stricken thoughts.

He glanced at Blair. He'd noticed her pause. (Was now the time to suggest a date, she froze? Did she even want to go on a stupid date?) "I need to stop by the Palace." He had to pick up the rest of his things.

"I'll come with you," Blair jumped in straight away - and the mention of his father's hotel, he saw, seemed to have snapped her out of it.

Lily sighed. "Oh. I'm afraid I already sent Vanya around for your clothes, Charles, but the staff told him-"

"Let me guess. They told him they weren't there any more."

Lily released another sigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise your father would be quite so petty."

Chuck bet Bart had taken no small amount of satisfaction in having the remainder of his belongings disposed of. Or maybe it hadn't even been satisfaction; maybe it had just been a case of removing necessary waste.

He felt Blair's hand cover his lap. "So we'll go shopping today." He raised an eyebrow at her – as did Serena – but she was determined. And in fact, she was quite pleased with the idea. She loved picking out ties with Chuck. She loved watching him get measured for a suit. She loved trying on lingerie for him. It was a _great_ idea.

"Perfect," Lily smiled, "I think Serena wanted to pick up something for her date tonight anyway."

Blair's own smile faded a little. Her visions of lingerie had not included her best friend.

Which Serena was kind of aware of. She sent them both a sheepish look - she did have a dress on hold in Saks, but she wanted Chuck and Blair to have the day to themselves. "Oh, well-"

"And while you're there, darling, could you collect my coat?" Lily breezed past her protests. She rested a hand, warmly, on Chuck's shoulder as she stood up. "Have a good day."

Serena gave a helpless shrug in their direction once her mother had left. "So," she managed. "Where are we going first?"

* * *

Chuck had to admit that there were worse things in the world than heading into the tailors with two beautiful girls - even if he would have preferred to be alone in the curtained-off changing room with just one of them.

Blair and Serena seemed to be having great fun choosing silk ties and cufflinks for him. (Although it was only Blair's choices that were met with his approval). He didn't really even need to approve them, since he knew that she was the only person pickier than he was. She knew what he liked. And she was soon snapping gleefully at the guy fitting Chuck's various suits.

In fact, it was all going great until the exasperated tailor asked if Mrs. Bass would like a drink. Downstairs, perhaps?

Blair rolled her eyes and was about to tell the idiot that she was _not_ Chuck's wife, she was -

Serena was looking at her expectantly.

People had made the assumption before. Before they'd even started sleeping together. Blair had always snorted and informed whoever the offender was that she was a friend. Chuck had always smirked when she'd said it, especially when they _had_ been sleeping together. _You're a great friend,_ he'd purred in her ear once, afterwards, as she'd been curled on his lap kissing him.

And just now it had been about to trip off her tongue because it was so practiced. Except...they weren't just friends any more, and they didn't need to pretend otherwise any more.

Chuck was watching her too.

"I'm Blair Waldorf," she finished pathetically. She saw Serena close her mouth and glance away. There was pity in her eyes, Blair was sure of it. Or if not pity then at least concern. Damnit.

* * *

The classical music being piped through Saks three hours later did nothing to put Blair at ease. It was downright irritating. Apart from that one tiny incident, their shopping trip had been a huge success - Serena had now gone off to get her dress while Blair browsed. Blair _did_ want to look at the summer collection for herself, but she also knew Chuck would confront her about her stupid freezing up and she would rather forget that it had happened. So she'd left him in the men's section.

And she was now attempting to focus on the exciting Mary Quant range in front of her.

"I like it," a voice murmured in her ear.

She stilled. Chuck had somehow snuck up on her.

She felt him brush her bare arm, his breath on the back of her neck. She _knew_ she should've worn her hair down. But no - she'd pulled it into the highest ponytail, complete with a headband, leaving it as exposed to Chuck as possible. She could tell that he was perfectly content with this fact. He reached over her now to finger the dress she'd been inspecting. Red and sleeveless with a round neck and a pleat down the front. It was short, too. Of course he liked it.

"I thought you were looking for a coat." She pulled away to face him, accusing.

She looked wound up and he knew what she needed. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Serena he would go slow if Blair wanted to - but her body right now was telling him the exact opposite. She needed to let loose. He tugged her further into the racks of dresses so that they were more concealed.

"You look tense," he murmured as his hands traced her arms, searching her face hungrily.

She ignored the familiar thrum in her veins at his touch. "Because you're supposed to be behaving."

"You're welcome to punish me," he smirked back.

"We are not having sex in a crowded store."

He glanced around the part that they were in, which was almost empty. "You didn't enjoy it before?"

Before it had been coat racks and she'd enjoyed it so much she'd had to muffle her moans in a particularly lovely mink, but - "Serena was right," she hissed. "We don't know how to be in a normal relationship!"

He looked at her blankly. "Who wants normal?"

Blair paused. When he put it like that, she had to admit that _normal _did sound a little beneath them. She didn't want normal. She wanted Chuck. But. "Serena's judging us," - judging _her - _"Because we're not holding hands and telling everyone we're..." She swallowed and Chuck regarded her. Together. In love.

"Because you didn't tell the _tailor _you were my girlfriend?" he enquired.

Something about the way he said _my girlfriend_ made her insides squirm with sudden pleasure. "Well," she tried to cover it with a scoff, "It's none of his business." Who cared about some stupid tailor anyway?

"Exactly." His fingers were on her waist now, warm and familiar. "I don't see," he mused, "Why being in a relationship should be so...complicated." His voice was low as he gazed down at her. "Why not just do the things that we like?"

Wasn't that precisely what she'd tried to tell Serena? Wasn't that precisely - she was distracted by his hand sliding further up her back and his lips on her neck. His thumb caressed her spine. "That's-" His dark eyes gleamed. "An excellent strategy," she finished in one breath. Then she grabbed his hand and dragged him to a more concealed spot before her mouth collided with his.

* * *

The day's sweltering heat had started to cool, and the sun sank into the evening as Chuck sat with Eric in the van der Woodsen living room. After their encounter in Saks, Blair had gone back to her own penthouse - mainly, Chuck suspected, to avoid Serena and all her apparent judgement. Though she'd pointed out to Chuck that the blonde was wrong, because this was supposed to be their honeymoon period and so the sex was completely justified. He had plans to head over to her penthouse himself once Serena was out of the way.

Serena was upstairs getting ready for her date when the elevator went and Nate emerged. Chuck watched him with some amusement - his best friend was late for everything, so he was clearly making a huge effort right now in being so on time.

"No flowers, Archibald?"

Nate rolled his eyes at him good-naturedly. "I got Serena her favourite chocolates." He held up the box.

Chuck smirked in reply.

"I'll go see if she's ready," Eric offered.

Once he was gone, Nate glanced at Chuck. He prepared himself. "Hey, about you and Blair-"

"Save it," Chuck spoke from the comfort of his chaise-long. "Serena's already given me the 'slow down' talk."

Nate seemed relieved. "Oh, good." He didn't really want to interfere in Chuck and Blair's love life. They were together and he was happy for them. He dropped down easily next to the brunette. "So I guess you told her it wouldn't work."

The other boy frowned, a little. "I told her Blair and I would do whatever worked for us."

"Right," Nate chuckled. "And obviously that's not flowers and no sex." He knew Chuck.

Chuck had started to stare at him. "Who said anything about not giving her flowers?" He knew exactly which peonies Blair liked best, and if he'd been the one taking her on a date then he would _not_ have substituted with chocolate.

Nate seemed surprised. "I just meant that it's not like you could go without sex for longer than a week. I get it, man. Dating's not for you."

"Please," Chuck snorted. "You and Serena are the ones with no self control."

The blond's handome features furrowed. "So...what are you doing with Blair tonight, then?"

Chuck was saved answering as Serena came into the room. She'd piled her hair on top of her head and was wearing a bright green and blue mini dress with large white earrings. Her grin was wide as soon as she saw Nate. "Ready to go?" She slipped her arm into his and then she was heading out of the door, calling bye to Eric and Chuck over her shoulder.

Chuck watched them go between narrowed eyes.

_Dating's not for you? _

What was that supposed to mean? He and Blair would be great at dating. Anything Nate and Serena could do, they could do better. Just because they_ chose_ not to -

"Are you headed to Blair's now?" Eric broke him out of his rather disgruntled thoughts.

Chuck turned on him, eyes still narrowed. "Yes." And he was going to show Nate exactly how wrong he was.

* * *

Blair had just received a telephone call from Cyrus informing her that Eleanor had secured a new designer and would be returning to New York at the end of the week. Which was why she was now curled at the table, sorting through material samples. She still felt that hollow pang at the knowledge that whoever her mother had got wouldn't be Givenchy - but she knew Eleanor would be appalled if she found out Blair had done next to no work at Waldorf Designs since they'd lost the deal.

Eleanor Waldorf did not believe in personal crises.

"Eleanor called?"

The material slid from Blair's hands. She hadn't even heard Chuck enter. "Cyrus," she confirmed. "And I thought you were coming at seven?" It was now only six thirty. Not that she wasn't delighted to see him; she noticed that he'd changed into the suit they'd bought today, complete with the patterned red tie she'd held up against his chest. "I knew it would look perfect on you," she purred as he came up behind her chair. He slid a bouquet of peonies onto the table and leaned over to kiss her. She smiled, one arm curving around his neck. "Chuck?"

"Nate seems to think we don't know how to date."

Blair's arms were still wrapped around him as she raised a brow. "Oh, please. Like restraining himself this one time with Serena makes him the expert."

"He didn't even buy her flowers," Chuck agreed with a scoff.

"And I'd normally say that was unacceptable, but Serena does prefer chocolate."

Chuck pulled a face. "It's a movie and dinner. It's hardly _challenging - _anyone could do it."

"Which is why we're doing much better things." Blair was playing with his tie now, quite intent on reaching up for another kiss.

"For some reason he thinks we're the ones who wouldn't last a week without sex."

Blair paused at that, indignant. "Of course we would. Nate and Serena are the only people who get sex and love confused - just look at all their past relationships! Nate didn't come out of his bedroom for a _week_ when he was dating that awful Buckley. And Tripp? Gabriel? We have far more restraint. One date does _not_ make them a perfect couple."

"Our date would be much better than theirs anyway," Chuck agreed.

"Obviously."

They looked at each other.

"Maybe," Chuck suggested, slowly, "You should try on that red dress."

"You know what?" Blair's hand curled over the bouquet. "I think that's an excellent idea." Chuck pulled her to her feet. Nate and Serena were going to rue the day they'd ever even questioned them.

* * *

Nate and Serena were standing in the concession line, laughing as they shared popcorn. Serena's bare arm kept brushing Nate's and the familiar way he kept shaking his golden bangs out of his face made her want to push them back herself. She'd missed this - she'd missed just having fun with him. And now excitement and something else fizzled underneath and she could feel his warmth through his jacket. She was happy, she realised.

"Curse of the Swamp Creatures? Are you serious?"

At the familiar voice she and Nate forgot their popcorn whirled round in disbelief.

"This is your idea of a romantic movie, Archibald?"

Chuck and Blair were standing in the theatre foyer. They were both impeccably dressed, Blair in heels with her hair curled and glossy. And both wore matching expressions of mild disdain.

"What...are you guys doing here?"

"We're on a date," Blair announced smugly.

"And since this is your first try, we thought we'd...offer our assistance." Chuck's smile was equally superior. "Since this is all new to you two."

Serena exchanged a glance with Nate. "Uh, thanks?"

They'd reached the front of the line now. "Four tickets, please," Blair instructed the cashier as her hand laced through Chuck's. He was already pulling out his wallet. Nate opened his mouth in a vague attempt at protest, but Blair had seized the tickets and was leading the way to the screen, hand still in Chuck's.

The two blondes stared at each other.

"Are you coming or not?"

* * *

Half an hour into the movie, Blair's smug expression had disappeared.

She hated horror movies like this one. Chuck knew that for a fact; he felt her squirm in the velvet seat next to him now as the monster on screen lurched out of the swamp. Serena, on her other side, was more than happy to squeal along and bury her face in Nate's shoulder.

But Blair needed movies with drama and wit and romance - not screaming and a lot of mud. Horror movies about fictional creatures and natural disasters...well, they freaked her out. There was no telling how they might end. The situations were not necessarily resolved and the protagonist didn't always survive. Plus the bimbos that got such good exercise for their lungs were all so _stupid_.

She shifted again, blanching as the music swelled and a body thrashed in the murky water. Ew. Chuck's hand rested on her thigh, covering her knuckles - she wanted to bury herself in his shoulder like Serena was doing with Nate but her pride didn't allow it. His breath was heated against her cheek. "I thought the whole point of a movie theatre date was to make out in the back row."

She wanted to melt into his voice, it was such sharp relief from the blood-curdling shrieks. At least if they were making out in the back row she wouldn't have to watch any more. "If you have no class," she bit back. It was a touch more savage than it needed to be, because she had the irrational urge to lose herself in his arms and that was unacceptable. It was a movie, for God's sake.

"Scared, Waldorf?"

It was a challenge. Blair Waldorf did not get_ scared_. "Of the terrible acting? Or of Nate's taste in film?" For some reason the idiot on screen still hadn't died, and the death was dragged out even longer as he choked on filth. Blair wasn't a coward. She could watch scary scenes when they were clever. She could appreciate cunning villains and the presence of evil - she liked dark more than she might be willing to admit. But stupid monsters and grisly deaths -

Chuck looked at her in the dim light of the theatre. The screen flickered across her face. "Let's get out of here," he murmured against her ear. "Go find a bathroom or cloakroom..."

The idea was almost too tempting to bear. But if Nate and Serena could sit through this damn movie, then so could they. She wasn't going to let their side down. "We're staying till the end," she replied through her teeth. And then flinched as a wart-covered hand shot up out of the mud.

So he settled against her, allowing his fingers to play with the hem of her dress. Her knees were bare and warm underneath. He sensed her still as his touch grazed naked skin.

"Chuck-" It was a whisper, warning.

He ignored the threat. He knew full well that as long as she was focused on his own ministrations then she wasn't being thoroughly disturbed by the events on the screen.

"What happened," she hissed in his ear, "To self-control and restraint?" But she didn't make much of a physical attempt to stop him because it felt so good. And the hot comfort of his touch, the familiar weight of his hand on her leg - she couldn't bring herself to push it off. For once he made no attempt to go higher, simply tracing small circles against her skin.

He felt her relax against him.

She sank gradually back into the deep chair as the movie carried on and her head brushed his shoulder. The stupid arm rest was in the way. But her body was shifted towards his, his hand now cradled in her lap.

He thumb stroked the apex of her thigh and she turned to admonish him - but their heads were so close now that when she turned she was level with his eyes. Close enough to feel the caress of his breath again. She felt his mouth curve. There was something grotesque happening on screen but she ignored it as she leaned even closer and kissed him, lightly. She could sense his surprise. She smirked in the dark and settled back in her chair; and this time her fingers were intertwined with his.

They didn't even notice that Nate and Serena had forgotten about the movie entirely and were making out with abandon. When the blonds finally broke apart Serena felt a brief flash of guilt, remembering best friend, and glanced over - but Chuck and Blair were sat quite tranquilly, holding hands like they weren't even aware they were doing it.

* * *

**A/N - So I know that this chapter was pretty low drama-wise, but I was in need of a little fluff? The date is not over though...And sorry that this took me a little while longer to post - like I said, I was worried there wasn't enough action! Thank you all so so much for your wonderful reviews :) **


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